


Holly at Hogwarts -- And the Potter Wars

by Forest_of_Holly



Series: Holly at Hogwarts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 54
Words: 321,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forest_of_Holly/pseuds/Forest_of_Holly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wycliff family deals with the after-effects of Holly and Vernon's summer adventure. Student pranks go too far at Hogwarts and Albus finds himself at the center of the accusations. An ultimate act of revenge points to Albus as the guilty person and forces both James and Holly to bear witness against him.  Meanwhile, Rita Skeeter and other wizards question Harry's guardianship of Holly while trying to pierce the veil of privacy and security surrounding the Potters and Wycliffs. Harry Potter works to protect both families while keeping himself out of Azkaban Prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amanda Alice](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Amanda+Alice).



**PROLOGUE**

**HOGWARTS, 1996**

_“THE FINAL DROPS OF ELIXIR HAVE BEEN DRUNK; THE MEANS TO MAKE MORE WILL BE HIDDEN BY THE ONE WITH THE BLACKENED HAND.”_

          The loud harsh voice spoke sharply without emotion. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her chair, and her eyes were unfocused. Then her eyes rolled up, her mouth sagged and she continued.

 

_“THE MEANS WILL BE REVEALED TO THOSE WHO KNOW NOT, AFTER THE ONE BOTH EARLY AND LATE ESCAPES THE ROOM OF DOOM FOR THE SECOND TIME...”_

           Professor Trelawney’s head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Suddenly, her head snapped up. “I’m sorry,” she said dreamily in a soft misty sort of voice totally unlike the previous one. “You were asking about my qualifications?   My great-great-grandmother was a very famous seer, you might remember her name, Madam Melvina,” she added proudly looking up through her thin glasses, her large round magnified eyes looking out of place on her angular face. “I have carried on in her tradition, of course.”  
          Hogwarts High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge gave a small throat-clearing cough and smiled revealing her pointed teeth. Inwardly Dolores frowned in disgust. As far as Dolores was concerned, Madam Melvina was a total charlatan who made some lucky guesses. Clearly Professor Trelawney was no better.  
           That phony display of a changing voice and prophetic words was an interesting act. It may impress some, but not Dolores. Elixir? There weren’t a lot of elixirs of importance. Professor Trelawney was a woman of limited imagination and from all accounts hadn’t left the school grounds since her employment. That meant it probably referred to the Elixir of Life that made such a splash in the news a few years ago. Everyone knew there was only one Sorcerer’s stone and it had been destroyed, or so Dumbledore said. Therefore the stone could not be the “means” used to make more elixir.  
          If it were possible to make more elixir, the knowledge would rest with Nicholas Flamel. Nicholas Flamel was dying, not hiding, and in no condition to make more Elixir even if he wanted to, which he obviously didn’t, or he wouldn’t have destroyed the stone in the first place. Besides, Nicholas Flamel didn’t have a blackened hand. The only people Dolores knew who might have a deformed hand were low-lifes and criminals who tended to dabble in the Dark Arts—people Nicholas Flamel would never associate with let alone entrust something of value to hide.  
           The rest was a bunch of mumble jumble—meaningless words no doubt included purely for the effect. It took some fancy magic to be both early and late at the same time—but why bother? And Dolores had never heard of a “Room of Doom.” It sounded good but if there were truly a Room of Doom, one certainly wouldn’t be escaping it “twice!” Professor Trelawney would have been more convincing had she prophesized about something relevant—like the whereabouts of Sirius Black or her next job…  
            Dolores made some check marks on her clipboard and rose purposefully from her chair. “Thank you for your help,” she told Professor Trelawney in a high girlish voice while smiling her sweetest smile and straightening her pink cardigan. “I have all I need for now. I’ll be in touch with you later.” Dolores gave a small girlish giggle and then turned to leave. Dumbledore may be an excellent wizard, but he certainly had no skill in selecting qualified professors. Hogwarts definitely needed some serious house cleaning starting with Professor Trelawney!

**PRESENT DAY**

 

          The mall bustled with people. Laurel Lynn Wycliff searched the crowds anxiously looking for anyone she recognized. She saw no one. That was to be expected, as this was not a place where she usually shopped. Nor did Laurel see the person she had come to meet. But she wasn’t worried; she was still a few minutes early and he was always extremely punctual.  
          Laurel walked into the food court area. It was past lunchtime. A few people still sat at tables finishing up their meals.   Laurel purchased a cup of tea and some biscuits. She selected an empty table near the wall and sat down while still scanning the crowds.  
          Suddenly, Laurel saw a tall slender figure with untidy gray-brown hair and glasses wearing a gray overcoat and a suit of nondescript gray standing next to a pillar. He seemed to blend in with the background and Laurel wouldn’t have noticed him at all except she saw him start forward in her direction and move purposefully within the crowd. While he walked, he glanced down frequently at what appeared to be a cell-phone in his left hand—except Laurel knew he didn’t own a phone. She wondered what he was really looking at.  
          “Hello, Mrs. Wycliff, Laurel,” he said cordially as he drew near.  
          “Hello, Mr. Potter, Harry,” said Laurel standing hastily to greet him. When she looked closely, she could see a zig-zaggy scar on his forehead. Her daughter Holly said Harry had gotten it as a tiny baby when somebody tried to kill him.   Laurel couldn’t imagine anyone trying to kill a baby. “Won’t you have a seat?” Laurel asked indicating the empty chair across from hers.  
          Harry pocketed the “phone” and sat down. “Where’s Dillon?” he asked glancing around while Laurel sat back down.  
          “Uh, he couldn’t make it,” replied Laurel uncomfortably looking down briefly while she spoke.  
          “Perhaps we should reschedule,” suggested Harry easily, his green eyes staring intently at Laurel.  
          “Uh, no,” said Laurel feeling extremely uncomfortable. “That won’t be necessary, we can go on without him…”  
          “Was he ever coming?” Harry asked suspiciously.  
          “Uh…” Laurel looked away from those piercing green eyes. What should she say?  
          “Does he even know?” demanded Harry with more suspicion.  
          Laurel didn’t respond. She was unwilling to lie but didn’t know how to word what she wanted to say.  
          “I think I should go,” Harry said abruptly having found the answer he sought from her expressions. He stood to leave.  
          “No! Don’t!” said Laurel reaching out and grabbing Harry’s wrist. He froze at her touch. “I’m sorry for misleading you,” continued Laurel hastily while refusing to let go, “but I thought if you knew why I really wanted you here you wouldn’t come!”  
          “If that’s what you thought,” said Harry coldly, “then you were probably right. I’ll be leaving now,” he added and drew back from Laurel pulling her arm with him not even bothering to inquire why Laurel had wanted him. But Laurel’s grip on Harry’s wrist tightened.  
          “Let go of me, Mrs. Wycliff.”  
          “No!” said Laurel insistently while gripping even tighter. “You’ve got to stay! Got to listen! If you try to leave I’ll—”  
          “You’ll what?” interrupted Harry sharply. His green eyes flashed angrily from beneath his glasses and that zig-zaggy scar seemed to show up white against his skin. Laurel stopped. Harry was not a person to be threatened or bullied. And as much as she wanted to make a scene to force him to stay, she wouldn’t. They owed him at least that much. “Nothing,” she mumbled releasing her hold. Laurel could see the imprint of her fingers still on his wrist.  
          “Thank-you,” he said quietly while rubbing his wrist. “I’ll be le—”  
          “It’s about Dillon!” Laurel blurted. “He’s in trouble!” Laurel continued quickly before she lost the nerve. She was not used to voicing problems in front of strangers—well nearly a stranger. She’d first met Harry Potter two years earlier and during that time he had kept his distance sharing their company briefly only a few instances and then only when absolutely necessary. For the most part he seemed nice enough but to be honest, Harry was a bit weird, and they were still strangers. “He won’t eat;” Laurel continued hurriedly not giving Harry a chance to respond, “doesn’t sleep; doesn’t talk; he just sits and stares!”  
          “Maybe he should see someone,” stated Harry unsympathetically. He still stood ready to leave but at least he hadn’t just walked off.  
          “I already suggested that and Dillon flat out refused,” replied Laurel. “He insists there’s nothing wrong! But there is! It’s like he doesn’t care any more; he’s lost all interest in everything—in me, the children, in life itself! And it’s not just at home!” Laurel added urgently. “Dillon’s boss called this week. Apparently Dillon’s been doing pretty much the same thing at work. I told them there’d been an accident recently,” Laurel added. “They’re being understanding about it now, but if Dillon doesn’t snap out of it soon he’s going to loose his job! And it’s a good one!”  
          “That’s too bad,” stated Harry coolly, “but how does all this affect me?”  
          “It, ah, started after we got back from that thing with the, uh, _tree_ …” explained Laurel meaning the incident during the summer where both Holly and Vernon had vanished before their eyes! Even now, Laurel had a hard time thinking, let alone talking, about the events of that terrifying day.  
          “We never touched him!” stated Harry automatically, defensively.  
          “I know that,” agreed Laurel hurriedly. Holly had said their disappearance was the result of a magical curse made by somebody named Tom Riddle, who was also a scary wizard called Lord Voldemort!   “But after we figured out what had, uh, happened to them, Dillon mentioned that it was all his fault—”  
          “It wasn’t,” Harry assured her.  
          “I know that, too,” agreed Laurel. “But later, I heard Dillon tell Holly how hard he was trying to keep her safe and how he had failed… I think he thinks he failed them both that day and it’s still bothering him!”  
          “That’s all very interesting, but how does it involve me?”  
          “Could you maybe talk with him?” There! She had said it! Dillon would never approve of Laurel going to Harry and asking for help. But Laurel was desperate and could think of nothing else to try. She had worked too hard to keep the family together despite all the weirdness that had come with Harry to let it fall apart without a fight now!  
          “Me?” questioned Harry in disbelief. “Whatever for?”  
          “I can’t take him to a professional even if he would go!” protested Laurel. “The moment Dillon mentions how he saw his children being pulled out of a tree they’d lock him up for sure! Dillon can’t talk with his parents about this either,” continued Laurel. “They still don’t even know about Holly being an, uh, you-know-what, and he refuses to talk to me. You’re the _only_ one he has left!”  
           “But I don’t know about such things…”  
          Laurel reached out and picked up her cup of tea while she phrased her thoughts. The liquid sloshed precariously in her trembling hand. Laurel took a sip of tea to steady herself. Then she stood up. Laurel needed to talk with Harry face to face; it would be harder for him to refuse that way. But since Harry wouldn’t sit, Laurel stood.  
           “I know that,” agreed Laurel taking another sip before putting the cup down. It was rather cold weak tea but it did help to calm her a bit. “But Holly told me how you helped her deal with, uh, things, after her first time, you know, _there_ ,” meaning the other time Holly had been trapped by the Tom Riddle curse and had nearly died while still at Hogwarts, “and I know you helped her after the plane crash, too,” Laurel continued. Holly hadn’t talked much about that experience at all and then wouldn’t go into details admitting only that the images of dead bodies had given her nightmares.  
          “Turning Holly into a vegetarian may not have been the best solution,” Laurel reflected honestly while remembering how difficult it had been for her to prepare meals they could all eat and enjoy during the summer, “but it worked. And now, she’s not a vegetarian any more—Holly got over it!” Of course, Holly tended to keep her eyes tightly closed during each bite, but still… Laurel took a deep breath and looked straight into Harry’s green eyes. “I’m hoping you can find some way to help Dillon come to terms with what happened…to help him get over it!”  
          “Holly’s different,” protested Harry while meeting her gaze squarely. “She likes me and I like her. Holly trusts me; we can talk and she’ll listen… Dillon doesn’t like me and he certainly doesn’t trust me—he’d never listen to anything I had to say.”  
          “I know you two have had your differences,” admitted Laurel. That was phrasing it lightly. Laurel knew that despite his quite demeanor, Harry had no love for Dillon, probably, she suspected, with good reason and the mere mention of Harry’s name used to cause Dillon to bristle with suppressed rage. It didn’t now, though; Dillon didn’t respond to much of anything these days. “But Dillon trusts you,” Laurel countered. “He trusts you with Holly. Surely you can make him listen… You must! He _needs_ you!”  
          “But I don’t even like him!” protested Harry.  
          “Do it for Holly, then,” Laurel pleaded. “If Dillon falls apart, think what it’ll do to her!” She kept her eyes fixed on Harry, sensing he was beginning to weaken. Laurel took a deep breath. “You once agreed to help a little girl who was dying,” she continued as persuasively as possible, “one you had never even met before, didn’t even know existed, and you said you were doing it just because she was “family.” Can you do less for your cousin?”    
          The silence between them stretched out as Laurel waited for a response, she kept her intent gaze directly on Harry’s eyes willing him to agree.  
          Suddenly the hard glint in Harry green eyes seemed to soften and he sighed. “Very well,” Harry said and the stern features in his face relaxed just a fraction as he spoke. “I’ll look into it,” he told her. “But no promises.”  
          “Thank you,” said Laurel with relief. And she put her hand out to shake his…  
          Harry looked at the hand without touching it. “That’s not necessary,” he told her softly. “As you said, we’re family. Besides, I haven’t done anything.” Laurel lowered her hand uncertainly. “You do realize,” Harry added, “that with the way Dillon feels about me, any involvement on my part may make things worse, not better, don’t you?”  
          “I understand,” said Laurel solemnly. Dillon might hit the roof if he learned she had gone to Harry, then again, he might not—Dillon seemed more like an empty zombie these days. “I’m willing to take that risk,” she told Harry. “I wouldn’t be here if things weren’t already pretty bad. I know you can’t promise anything, but at least you’ll try. That’s all I can ask.”  
          Harry nodded. Then he pulled out his “cell-phone,” opened it and glanced briefly at it’s screen. “I’d best be going,” he told her calmly. “Good day, Mrs. Wycliff.”  
          “Good day, Mr. Potter,” replied Laurel formally. “And thank you again.”  
          Harry nodded one last time and then walked swiftly off vanishing within the crowd of people.

*********************

          “Ki—ah!”  
          Vernon Wycliff pulled some chips from the bag and put them into his mouth. He was sitting in the shade in his back yard watching Holly practice karate. Holly had insisted on taking lessons the moment they had returned home from the weird hospital. Vernon didn’t like to think about the hospital because it also meant thinking about why he had been there and horrible hours of pain and darkness that had happened before. It was the result of some sort of magical curse intended for Cousin Harry. Holly had broken the curse and everything was fine now so Vernon did his best to shove the experience from his mind. That wasn’t always easy, though, especially at night. But in the daylight, under the sun, Vernon could pretend that it had never happened.  
          “Ki—ah!” Holly then twisted and turned on the lawn completing some sort of complicated pattern with her hands and feet.  
          Vernon shoved some more chips into his mouth savoring their salty cheesy taste and then took a sip of the soda that had been on the ground next to him. Karate seemed a stupid way to waste the rest of summer. Vernon had asked Holly why she wanted to take karate and she muttered something about wanting to learn to defend herself. That didn’t make sense to Vernon as Holly was supposed to be a witch or something—with a wand and everything. Why would she need something as ordinary as karate? But dad didn’t object so mum took Holly to karate classes three times a week and Holly diligently practiced what she learned the rest of the time.  
          Holly turned and punched the empty air with her fists. “Ki—ah!” she shouted.  
          Vernon finished the chips. He crumpled the bag and tossed it aside. Then he opened the second bag on the ground— barbeque flavoured this time. He popped some chips into his mouth and chewed contentedly while Holly worked on her steps—forms, she called them. Holly looked like a real ninja person wearing that white uniform with her bare feet moving back and forth purposefully on the grass. She looked so determined with her long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Vernon liked to watch Holly move in those funny directions and give her shouts; it kept him distracted, kept him from thinking other things. Vernon didn’t take lessons with Holly, of course; karate wasn’t his thing. Besides, taking lessons would have meant leaving the house to go to class. Vernon didn’t want to do that. He hadn’t left the house since they got back from the hospital. It just felt better that way.  
          Holly straightened. She walked to the edge of the lawn and bowed at the hips, her hands at her side. Then she walked over to Vernon and sat down next to him. Sasha, her long-haired gray cat ran up to join them weaving in between the two, back and forth begging for attention.  
          “How are you?” asked Holly after she took a long sip from her water bottle. She absently stroked Sasha while she rested in the shade.  
          “Fine,” replied Vernon promptly and he popped another chip in his mouth.  
          “That’s what mum and dad always say when I ask them,” replied Holly glumly as she stroked Sasha again much to the cat’s delight; she had started to purr loudly and forced her way onto Holly’s lap. “They’re lying too.”  
          Vernon didn’t argue; there was no point. Holly was something called an Empath. She could feel what other people felt and could always tell when he lied. “What about you?” he asked instead. “How are you?”  
          “I’m fi—” Holly stopped. Vernon looked at her curiously. Holly hadn’t said much about her experiences while he was in _the room_. She’d told him a rather strange story about a wizard who had scared her so much that she could eat meat whenever she thought of him. But other than that… Vernon watched Holly stroke the cat repeatedly and waited patiently for her answer. Sasha was curled contentedly in Holly’s lap purring louder than ever and kneading Holly’s leg gently with her paws.   “I see things,” Holly finally admitted. “Things that aren’t there, oughtn’t be there, but I see them anyway.”  
          “Ghosts?” inquired Vernon knowing the school she attended was supposed to be haunted.  
          “No, not ghosts,” replied Holly thoughtfully. “Just flashes of buildings and things and people that aren’t really there. Kind of like memories, but they’re stronger than regular memories. They usually go away if I turn my head or close my eyes long enough.”  
          “Oh,” replied Vernon and he took a deep drink finishing his soda. He didn’t understand what Holly meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to. Vernon tossed the empty soda can on the ground next to the crumpled bag.  
          Holly turned her head suddenly. “Mum’s back,” she announced. And Vernon heard the car door on the other side of the house slam shut.  
          “I wonder what she bought,” said Vernon eagerly happy for a change in subject.  
          “Bought?”  
          “Sure—she said she was going shopping, remember?”  
          “She didn’t go shopping,” replied Holly softly.  
          “She didn’t?” said Vernon confused. “But mum said—”  
          “I know what she said,” replied Holly grabbing a chip from Vernon’s bag. “And she’s probably brought something back, but that’s not why she went out. I don’t know why she went out.” Holly popped the chip into her mouth and chewed making several loud crunching noises. “Sometimes,” Holly added after she had swallowed, “I really hate it when I can tell when people are lying or telling half truths. I feel like I know too much—know things I shouldn’t know.”  
          “Oh.” Vernon tipped his head back, opened his mouth and poured the rest of the chips from the bag into his mouth. Personally, being an Empath didn’t sound all that bad—especially around birthdays and Christmas. But Vernon didn’t say that to Holly. She sounded too depressed to appreciate the benefits of being an Empath at the moment. “Well,” said Vernon while crumpling his bag. “I’m going to see what she got. You coming?” He reached over, grabbed his soda can and the other empty bag. “Maybe she’s picked up some dinner,” he added while standing up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry!”  
          “No you’re not!” protested Holly. “You’re full! _I’m_ full! Bloated!”  
          “Why don’t you go _block!_ ” snapped Vernon angrily. Vernon knew Holly wasn’t full. Holly hadn’t eaten a thing since noon and had spent all afternoon practicing. Blocking was something Holly could do to prevent how other people felt from affecting her. The only way Holly could feel “full” was by feeling what Vernon felt and Holly wouldn’t have felt Vernon’s fullness had she been blocking.  
          “I’m sorry!” said Holly standing up immediately. Sasha slid from Holly’s lap; the cat twisted and leaped to the ground. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Holly added.  She sounded as if she were ready to cry and Vernon realized it was probably one of those times Holly wished she couldn’t tell when people were lying… He wished it too.  
          “It’s just when I block, I don’t feel as safe,” Holly continued explaining. “When I can’t tell who is around me or where … I get scared...” Holly’s voice trembled a bit as she spoke and Vernon immediately regretted his earlier words.  
          “I’m sorry I snapped,” Vernon apologized. “I know I’m full,” he confessed. “But I just can’t seem to stop eating. I get all shaky inside when I do. To tell the truth,” he added, “I’m kind of sick of chips at the moment.”  
          Holly smiled. “Me too,” she said softly, her green eyes glistening. “Let’s go inside.” And the two headed for the back door.


	2. Chapter 2

          A few days later Laurel Wycliff opened the front door and stepped inside. “We’re home,” she shouted over the tube. Vernon had started leaving the tube on when he was alone in the house even if he wasn’t in the room watching. Holly squeezed in behind Laurel and hurried off to her room to change her clothes.  
          They and just gotten back from another karate lesson—no, it wasn’t karate, as Holly repeatedly corrected Laurel, but something called Tang Soo Do—a martial art that originated in Korea. Neither of them had known that when Holly first saw the person in karate looking clothes on the sign in the window. Holly had been excited at the prospect of signing up for karate lessons and Laurel had been relieved the studio, or wherever one got lessons, wasn’t too far from home…  
          Holly had been adamant about taking karate lessons almost to the point of desperation. Laurel had asked why and Holly merely said she wanted to learn to defend herself. When Laurel asked again, out of Dillon’s hearing, Holly had muttered, “Wands aren’t everything.”  
          That was a rather surprising admission. Laurel had seen wands for the first time only that summer when Harry and his friends came to rescue the children from _that tree_ —and their wands seemed pretty remarkable indeed. Laurel couldn’t imagine a situation where they wouldn’t be useful… But when Laurel tried to inquire further, Holly had curled up into a tight ball.  
          “Please don’t ask me for any details, mum,” Holly sobbed. “It’s too soon! I can’t _bear_ to talk about it now!” And so Laurel held her daughter instead and listened quietly while Holly sobbed uncontrollably. Laurel hoped that taking karate would help Holly find the strength and security to deal with whatever nightmares now plagued her.  
          Holly’s karate instructor had told Laurel he was impressed with Holly’s enthusiasm and progress in such a short time. He was certain she would be promoted to the next level in October. Laurel doubted there were places to continue karate practice at Hogwarts.  
          “Did you get more chips?” Vernon’s loud voice broke into Laurel’s thoughts. Laurel looked up to see her son Vernon come out of his bedroom to greet her.  
          “No, dear,” replied Laurel in an equally loud voice. “It was just karate. We didn’t go shopping. Put chips on the list,” she suggested. “And turn off the tube. You know it should be off when you’re not watching.”  
          “Sorry,” said Vernon loudly and promptly grabbed the remote on the coffee table. He pressed the power button turning the tube off suddenly thrusting the room into relative silence. “I’ve been putting chips on the shopping list for the past three weeks and you still forget to get them,” Vernon complained in a more normal sounding voice.  
          “Sorry,” said Laurel. She hadn’t forgotten. Vernon had been eating way too much lately. Laurel knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t figure how to convince him to stop. “Next time for sure,” she added automatically. Even though Holly was in her bedroom, Laurel could almost feel Holly’s green eyes piercing into her the way they did whenever Laurel told a lie, white or otherwise. It was unnerving. “Perhaps you could come to the store with us next time and pick out the chips for yourself, as many as you want…” Laurel added enticingly.  
          “Uh, that’s O.K.,” replied Vernon in a less aggressive voice. “I’ll manage.”    
          Laurel sighed. That meant Vernon would dig into his savings and walk over to the nearby Mom and Pop store. Their prices were high, but Vernon had recently become their best customer… Vernon used to go for car rides at the drop of a hat—any excuse to get out and about, but not now. Now he refused to leave the house. Even the promise of new videos at the game store failed to lure him away.  
          “What’s for dinner?” Vernon asked with renewed interest.  
          “Meatloaf,” said Laurel. She had spotted an interesting looking recipe in her new low calorie cookbook that she wanted to try. “And you need to turn off your bedroom light when you’re not in there—you’re wasting energy!”  Vernon was constantly leaving lights on all around the house now—even falling asleep with them on!  He never used to be that irresponsible.  
          “Sorry,” said Vernon promptly but he continued to follow Laurel into the kitchen, no doubt in search of something to eat. “When’s dinner?”  
          “Not for a couple of hours yet,” replied Laurel as she headed for the kitchen. Laurel was certain all of Vernon’s new habits had something to do with _the tree_ but Vernon wasn’t talking. Neither of the children were.  
          Laurel tried to discuss all this with Dillon. But he didn’t respond to her concerns. Laurel wasn’t even sure he had heard her. Laurel missed Dillon’s blustery take-charge attitude. Even if she disagreed, it had always given her direction. Now, Laurel felt like she was on a sinking ship without a rudder.  
          Her cell phone rang. Laurel pulled it out of her purse. The number was unfamiliar. “Hello?” she said as she put it to her ear.  
          “Mrs. Wycliff?” came a familiar voice.  
          “Yes.” Laurel felt a surge of apprehension as she answered remembering the last time that calm voice had called her—when her children were missing because of a dreadful curse.  
          “I just called to let you know that Dillon will be late tonight. Don’t worry.”  
           “Uh, thank you,” said Laurel as calmly as possible. She wanted more details, but didn’t dare ask, not with Vernon listening in. Even without Vernon, Laurel suspected Harry would not have said more.  
          “Good-bye.” And the connection ended.  
          “Who was it?” asked Vernon curiously.  
           “Nobody,” lied Laurel as she put the phone back in her purse. She needed some time to think. “Uh, here,” she said digging into her bag. “Why don’t you go down to the store and get some more chips?” She handed Vernon a couple of bills to pay for them.  
           “O.K.” said Vernon readily while tucking the bills into his pocket. He turned to leave the kitchen. “Take Holly with you,” added Laurel knowing Holly had probably changed her clothes by now. “She could use the change of scenery.”  
           “Sure thing,” replied Vernon. “Hey, Holly,” Vernon shouted across the room, “want to come to the store with me?”  
           “O.K.,” came the response. Then Laurel heard the front door open followed by the sound of her two children noisily trooping out. The door closed leaving Laurel alone in the kitchen.  
          Laurel put on a kettle of water to make some tea. Then she sat at the table while the water heated. When she had contacted Harry less than a week ago, she had been certain it was the right thing to do. And Laurel was so relieved when he consented. But then, when nothing happened right away, Laurel figured Harry had changed his mind or nothing had come of the meeting. Now, knowing something would happen and it would be _tonight,_ the request was no longer academic and, despite the message, Laurel worried. Had she done the right thing, would it even help?  
          The kettle whistled loudly. Laurel jumped at the sound.   She hastily poured herself a cup of water accidentally spilling some of the hot liquid onto the saucer. Her trembling fingers added some tea leaves and she stirred it all with a spoon. Laurel stared at the swirling leaves as the water gradually darkened while she considered what she should do next. Her nerves finally calmed down after a sip or two of the hot tea.  
          Laurel finally decided there was nothing she could do but wait. She finished her tea and then got up taking the cup and saucer with her to the kitchen sink. Laurel washed the dishes, set them in the dish rack to dry and dried off her hands. Then she went to one of the shelves and pulled out the family cookbook. “They would be having Salisbury steak for dinner tonight,” she decided, “and maybe some chocolate cake with ice cream for dessert.” This was not a night for a low calorie meal using experimental recipes.

*********************

          Dillon Wycliff walked into the parking lot towards his car after finishing another day of work. Had anyone asked, Dillon wouldn’t have been able to describe what he had done during the day. It just didn’t seem important enough to remember. Nothing seemed very important. Nor did Dillon notice the unusually large amount of clouds billowing overhead or that a heavy fog seemed to be rolling in… Dillon reached the car and unlocked the door on the driver’s side. He opened it, got in and closed the car door.   Buckling up was an automatic action as was putting the key in the ignition.  
          Suddenly, the door on the passenger side opened and someone got in. Dillon turned to look and his heart skipped a beat! Several, actually. For it was his cousin Harry Potter who sat down besides him!  
          “What are you doing here?” demanded Dillon.  
          “Getting a lift, _Dud-_ ley,” said Harry in a cold voice. Dillon automatically flinched at the use of his original name. “You don’t mind, do you?” Harry's face was grim as he spoke. The black robe he wore over his clothes and the wand clutched in one hand made him look positively sinister!  
          “Well, yeah,” replied Dillon not liking Harry’s manner or appearance. “As a matter of fact, I do. Get out!”  
          “Not today,” replied Harry ruthlessly and he pointed his wand at the steering wheel. Suddenly, the engine turned over and the car roared to life! The gears moved about on their own accord and the car gave a jolting lurch!  
          “Are you _crazy_?” demanded Dillon as an uneasy apprehension filled his body.  
          “Of course I am, _Dud-_ ley,” retorted Harry harshly while pointing his wand threateningly towards Dillon. “I’m a _wizard_ , remember? You’ve always called us crazy, why should I disappoint you?”  
          Dillon stared in shock at Harry with that wand waving menacingly at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dillon demanded as fear replaced earlier surprise and apprehension.  
          “Going for a ride,” replied Harry coldly as he strapped himself in, “just you and me, _Dud-_ ley.”  
          Realizing he couldn’t force Harry out, Dillon hastily unbuckled his own seatbelt and opened the car door meaning to get out and as far as away from Harry as possible. Dillon was in the process of getting out when he happened to glance out and down… Dillon frantically grabbed onto the steering wheel as his feet slid out of the car into nothing! There was no ground!  
          While they had talked, Harry had somehow made the car rise into the air. The two were now several meters up! Dillon leaned into the center of the car scrambling frantically trying to get his feet back inside and the car tipped crazily to the left side. Dillon slid onto Harry and Harry pushed Dillon firmly the other way towards the opened car door. The car righted itself and then tipped the other way as Dillon neared the opening. Dillon caught the steering wheel, stopping his slide in the other direction.  
          “Are you trying to get me killed!” demanded Dillon in panic as his arms clung onto the steering wheel and his feet braced against the car floor between the pedals to keep from getting sucked out the door.  
          “That was the general idea,” replied Harry callously.  
          “Huh?”  
          “I’ve been watching you, _Dud-_ ley!” Harry said in a grating voice. “You’ve lost weight. You quit eating? There’s bags under your eyes,” Harry added unsympathetically. “Not sleeping either are you? And at work today—you didn’t do a thing but sit and stare at the wall—all day! Kind of like what you’ve been doing at home! Looks to me like you are committing a slow suicide. So I decided to help out—speed things up a bit—make sure you don’t fail again!  
          “Fail?” said Dillon faintly, the word somehow cut through him like a knife.  
          “Sure. You’ve been punishing yourself for the way you screwed up this summer haven’t you? All that talk about wanting to keep your family safe and what do you do? You drive them up to the one place that can get your kids killed! Not only killed, but killed with _magic!”_ Dillon cringed instinctively at the word. “The one thing you hate the most! And not just Holly but Vernon, too!” continued Harry relentlessly. “Pretty stupid wasn’t it? You should have known better,” Harry observed coldly.   “You deserve to die after a boner like that! But if you wait too long,” he added, “you’ll probably screw that up too!”  
          Harry looked past Dillon out the open car door. “I figure we’re high enough,” he said calmly. “Why don’t you jump now and then you’ll have done at least one thing right! You won’t be a _failure_ any more. Moreover, you’ll have saved your wife and kids the pain of having to wait around and watch you die by millimeters. They can move on to other things sooner—get on with their lives. And you needn’t worry about them,” Harry continued unsympathetically. “You’ve life insurance, right?” Harry went on without waiting for a response. “I can fix it so this looks like an accident. The insurance’ll pay promptly and that’ll take care of immediate expenses. Afterwards, well, I know a few bachelor wizards that wouldn’t mind taking on a ready-made family…”  
          “How dare you—” sputtered Dillon finally finding his voice.  
          “Why not?” interrupted Harry nastily. “You’ll be dead—what do you care? Laurel’s a fine looking woman, why should she spend the rest of her days alone—and if she married a wizard, she wouldn’t have to explain a _freak_ like Holly…”  
           Something snapped within Dillon. Heedless of the danger, he released the steering wheel and lunged for Harry. The car tipped with the shift in weight and Dillon fell on top of Harry. Harry’s wand fell from his hand as Dillon’s fingers found Harry’s throat and encircled his neck. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ call my daughter a _FREAK!”_ began Dillon in fury as he poured all his fear, guilt, and frustration into his fingers squeezing ever tighter…  
          Harry’s face turned from red to purple...  Some corner of Dillon’s mind registered that Harry _wasn’t_ fighting back! Why? Suddenly Dillon looked at his white fingers against Harry’s blue skin in shock! Dillon quickly removed his hands as if they had touched acid! What was he doing?! He was no murderer! Abruptly feeling sick, Dillon pulled himself off Harry and back to the driver’s side of the car. The car tipped precariously. Clinging to the steering wheel, Dillon started heaving. Nothing came out; he hadn’t eaten lunch or breakfast, but it was a long time before the coughing subsided.

*********************

          The evening air blew cold against Dillon’s face but he didn’t feel it; Dillon was lost in his own thoughts. What kind of a man was he? Maybe he _should_ die…  
          “You done?” Harry’s words broke into Dillon’s thoughts. The calm voice seemed rather scratchy but no longer harsh and cold.  
          “Yeah,” replied Dillon dully.  
          “You planning to commit suicide—slow or otherwise?”             
          That question took longer to answer. “No,” Dillon finally said and with the admission suddenly Dillon felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his mind and body.  
          “Good.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dillon saw Harry’s hand move out and his wand silently flew into it. Harry’s fingers tightened around the wand and he pointed it past Dillon. The car door suddenly swung shut with a loud _“thwunck”_ and Harry added, “because I think your family would be very unhappy if you died.”  
          Dillon turned and looked towards Harry. “I’m sorry,” he said guiltily, his eyes riveted to the finger marks that showed vividly against Harry’s neck. “I didn’t mean to, uh,” Dillon broke off and looked away unable to finish.  
           “Yeah, well, no harm done,” replied Harry dismissively while he carefully pocketed his wand out of sight. “You were a little upset… If it’s any consolation,” Harry added while rubbing his neck, “I don’t think any wizard could turn Laurel’s head—she only has eyes for you. Can’t imagine why though.”  
          “Me neither,” said Dillon grudgingly remembering his beautiful wife and that worried look he’d often seen on her face the past few weeks... It hadn’t meant much before but with what Harry had just said and his strange behavior Dillon asked suddenly, “She put you up to this?” Dillon kept his eyes fixed on the car dash as he spoke.  
          There was a long silence before Harry finally replied. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She wanted me to “talk” to you. I didn’t want to but Laurel can be very ... persuasive.”  
          “She can, can’t she,” agreed Dillon with a smile remembering the times Laurel had gotten him to do things he hadn’t wanted to do.  
          “She’s one in a million,” commented Harry quietly. “Don’t let her go.”  
          Dillon nodded in agreement. “I won’t,” he said soberly. And he meant it.  
          “I didn’t think you’d listen to a word I said,” added Harry conversationally, “unless-”  
          “You scared me to death, first?” filled in Dillon realizing the experience had left him wrenched and exhausted but feeling more alive than he had in some time.  
          “Let’s say, unless you had a closer look at your … priorities,” finished Harry dryly.  
          “Oh.” Dillon watched the shifting clouds outside not knowing what else to say.  
          Harry shifted to a more comfortable position and took a deep breath. “What happened this summer,” Harry began slowly, “you couldn’t have known—none of us did. I would have chopped down that tree personally if I even remotely thought that something like that had been done to it. Things just happen that are out of our control. All we can do is pick up the pieces afterwards and go on. You weren’t to blame, Dillon,” Harry concluded. “It wasn’t your fault.”  
          “I know,” said Dillon thoughtfully, and though he had heard Laurel say those very words before, had said them himself just to keep her quiet, this time he actually believed it. And the weight of all that guilt seemed to vanish from his shoulders making him feel incredibly light—free for the first time in ages. “It’s Ginny’s,” Dillon added.  
          “What?”  
          “Ginny’s fault,” replied Dillon firmly. It felt good to be able to transfer the blame. “I heard you talking that day,” continued Dillon with more certainty while looking at Harry directly in the eyes. It hadn’t made much sense at the time; he had been too consumed in personal guilt to recognize the importance of Harry’s words but now… “You told Ginny she could remember—that the knowledge was in her—that meant she put it there, right?”  
          Harry looked down and there was a long silence before he responded. “Yeah,” Harry admitted softly not meeting Dillon’s gaze. “Ginny’s body, Tom Riddle’s mind. He took over Ginny and forced her to do things for him. She was eleven years old at the time, Dillon, and Tom was an accomplished wizard. Ginny didn’t have a chance. Then Tom suppressed her memories so Ginny couldn’t tell anyone what she had done.” There was a long silence as more and more clouds drifted by then Harry looked up at Dillon. “You know, you actually did us all a favor visiting Privet Drive.”  
          “I did?”  
          “Yeah, Ginny got some of her memories back when she destroyed that plaque.”  
          “Oh.”  
          The two sat in silence for a while watching the clouds and then Harry added, “There was another plaque.”  
          “Another?” Dillon felt his blood run cold at the thought.  
          “Yeah. We were able to find and destroy it. I watched it happen myself. There aren’t any more. Our children are finally safe.”  
          “Safe,” echoed Dillon. That had a good sound to it. The two sat quietly as the car drifted through more clouds.  
          Presently, Harry spoke again. “Speaking of children,” he began, “I think you might want to have a talk with Vernon…”  
          “Vernon? Why?” asked Dillon immediately defensive of his children. “He’s fine!”  
          “Physically, yes,” agreed Harry. “But he’s gained weight since I last saw him, a lot of weight.”  
          “So?”  
          “And he’s been sleeping with the light and radio on at night… Is that usual?”  
          “You’ve been watching him?” said Dillon aggressively, instantly annoyed at the thought that their privacy had been invaded.  
          “Watching you, actually,” corrected Harry mildly. “But Vernon was hard to miss hanging around the house as he does. He never struck me as the stay-at-home kind of boy before.”  
          “He’s fine,” assured Dillon dismissively hiding the worry and guilt he suddenly felt. If what Harry said were true, how could he have missed all those changes? “He just needs some time to get over it.”  
          “Did you ever get over that dementor?”  
          Dillon cringed inwardly. Sometimes he still had nightmares about that experience.  
          “What happened to Vernon was probably no less frightening,” added Harry. “At least you had your parents to talk to. Or did you?” Harry questioned shrewdly no doubt remembering Dillon’s parents. “When Vernon goes back to school he’ll have no one.”  
          “His friends,” insisted Dillon weakly.  
          “Did you ever tell _your_ friends?”  
          Dillon winced. He hadn’t been able to tell his friends anything! He wasn’t sure exactly what _had_ happened let alone been able to talk about it. In turn, his friends sensed something was different and taunted Dillon mercilessly to find out what. The secret and Dillon’s refusal to talk drove them further apart and in the end destroyed whatever friendship they had had. Dillon didn’t want that to happen to Vernon. On the other hand, he had no idea how to prevent it.  
          “You talk with him,” Dillon decided out loud.  
          “Me?”  
          “Yeah,” Dillon added with resolve. “It’s all your fault—yours and Ginny’s; you fix it!”  
          “But I scarcely know Vernon,” protested Harry. “And I’m certainly no psychologist.”  
          “I know,” agreed Dillon. “But you know what happened and can answer questions. That’s a start. I never even had that and I think it would have helped,” Dillon confessed. “You know I don’t understand ma—uh—that stuff you do—or anything connected to it. How can I talk to Vernon about it? I have a hard enough time knowing that Holly goes to that—” Dillon swallowed and started again. “The only way I can deal with Holly attending that, uh, _school,_ is by pretending that she doesn’t—that she really _does_ attend Hillary’s— _Hillary’s!”_ stated Dillon in sudden panic. “I can’t tell my parents I’m sending her back there! What’ll I do?!!”  
          “That is a problem I happily leave to you,” said Harry with a touch of a smile on his lips. “All right, Dillon,” Harry said shifting in his seat. “I’ll have a talk with Vernon. But I don’t know if it’ll help. I could always, uh, you know,” and Harry waved his hand slightly as if holding a wand.  
          “No!” exclaimed Dillon forcefully. “No funny stuff—just talk! And after that, well, we’ll see.”  
          “Very well,” agreed Harry solemnly. “No funny stuff.” Harry looked up and outside into the clouds and the darkening skies beyond. “It’s getting late,” he remarked calmly. “Ginny’s waiting. I suppose we should be getting home.”  
          “Laurel!” Dillon exclaimed. “She’ll be worried too!”  
          “I called her,” said Harry reassuringly, “told her you’d be late tonight and not to worry. Though I’m sure she’s still worried.”  
          “Probably,” agreed Dillon. “How do we, uh, get down?” he asked.  
          “Easy,” replied Harry. “Just shift the gears into “park.”  
          “And we won’t fall?” asked Dillon dubiously as he cautiously placed his hand on the gear stick and peered outside at all the clouds.  
          “No,” assured Harry calmly. “We won’t fall.”  
           Dillon took a deep breath and shifted the gears into “park.” To his relief, he felt a gentle sinking sensation of the car slowly lowering downward.  
          “What about Holly?” he asked with sudden concern. After what Harry had said about Vernon, Dillon was almost afraid of what he might hear.  
          “Well,” began Harry thoughtfully. “Holly seems to be spending most of her time practicing karate or going to karate class.”  
          _“Karate???”_ thought Dillon with surprise. _“When had that happened?”_  
          “And when it’s not karate,” continued Harry, “she’s with Mrs. Rogers practicing piano.” More clouds swirled around them as the car moved steadily downward. “I kind of understand the piano,” added Harry after a bit, “but not the karate. I thought I might ask her about that while we were on the train to London.”  
          “Do you, uh, understand why Vernon’s doing what he’s doing, too?” Dillon asked hesitantly, fearfully. He didn’t want to know and yet the parent in him had to know…  
          Harry was silent after that question but Dillon was certain Harry knew the answer so he waited apprehensively, afraid of what he’d learn. “Yeah,” Harry finally said quietly while staring out the window, not looking at Dillon. “I think so.” Dillon waited some more without speaking. Finally Harry sighed and looked down at the car dash and at then his hands as if not wanting to face Dillon. “Albus, was,” he began and then stopped. Dillon remembered that Albus was Harry’s son. Albus had been with Holly the first time.  
          “Albus?” Dillon encouraged.  
          And Harry continued. “Albus was tied in a chair and left alone in the dark to die of starvation.” Harry finished quickly and raised his head but didn’t look at Dillon. “I haven’t asked, of course, but I’m guessing something similar happened to Vernon.”  
          Dillon lowered his head in his hands as he tried to contemplate Harry’s words and imagine his boy bound in a chair. The image tore at his guts—that someone would do that to his child! Dillon raised his head. “But it was only for a couple of hours…”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Harry. “Only a couple of hours.” But there was something off about his voice, something not quite right.  
          Dillon looked over at Harry. “What?!” he demanded suspecting Harry was holding something back. “What is it?” he insisted when Harry didn’t immediately answer.  
          Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “Hea—uh, Doctor Winonan says Vernon was tied for two maybe three days minimum!”  
          “Three days!” exclaimed Dillon in horror. “How can that be?”  
          “I honestly don’t know,” replied Harry seriously. “It shouldn’t have been that long. Holly was nearby. She knew what to do; she should have been right behind Vernon to set him free...” Harry’s voice died away. A bird flew past, and another.    
          Then Harry spoke again. “Still,” he added speculatively, “three days tied, alone in the dark with no food or water, no expectation of escape… It would seem to do more towards explaining Vernon’s current behavior wouldn’t you say?” Dillon shuttered at the thought.  
          The car landed on the ground with a gentle “bump.” Dillon turned the key in the ignition shutting off the engine. Then he looked up and out the window. With a start, Dillon realized the car had landed perfectly in his front driveway. Dillon stared dumbly at the safety and security of his house, only a few steps away.  
          “I’ve got to go,” said Harry bluntly. “Ginny’s waiting.” He unbuckled his seat belt. Dillon nodded absently while Harry removed the strap from his waist, opened the car door and slid on out.  
          “How’d you know?” Dillon asked abruptly as Harry was about to close the car door.  
          “What?” Harry asked through the opening. The finger marks on his throat still showed faintly but plainly on his neck.  
          “How’d you know that I’d, uh, stop in time?” Dillon’s fingers twitched unconsciously; he closed his eyes and shuttered remembering. The realization that Harry wasn’t fighting back had contributed much towards bringing Dillon back to his senses.  
          “I didn’t,” replied Harry promptly. “Not really. But I’ve met the real thing, Dillon. And they don’t come worse than Lord Voldemort.” And as he spoke, a shadow seemed to cross Harry’s face as if he were thinking things too horrible to contemplate. Harry looked up at Dillon and added seriously, “You can get angry, really angry Dillon, but you’re no killer!” Harry brought up a hand and unconsciously rubbed his throat. “I admit, though,” he continued softly, “I was beginning to have my doubts…” Harry turned and got out of the car. “Good night, Dillon,” said Harry in his usual calm voice.  
           “Yeah,” acknowledged Dillon. And Harry shut the car door. Dillon glanced briefly at the front entrance of his house with its warm porch light beckoning him. When Dillon looked again out the passenger window side, Harry was nowhere in sight.

*********************

          Laurel sat in her favorite chair crocheting. The people on the tube spoke and an unseen audience laughed loudly but Laurel didn’t hear any of it. She was too busy worrying. Dinner had been fairly uneventful. Laurel told the children that Dillon had called and said he would be working late. Vernon had accepted the explanation without question. Holly had shot her piercing green eyes straight through Laurel as if challenging her to correct the lie she had just told. Laurel didn’t, of course, and at least Holly didn’t argue with Laurel’s story out loud.  
          After dinner and dishes, Laurel instructed both Holly and Vernon to go to their rooms and told them to stay there until morning. This time, Laurel gave no reason; she was past coming up with explanations. Vernon objected immediately saying he would miss out on some favorite television shows but Laurel hustled him off to his room anyway. Holly, perhaps sensing the sincerity behind Laurel’s words, had gone to her room quietly and shut the door. Laurel didn’t know what would happen when Dillon came home, but she didn’t want the children to witness it.  
          The front door finally opened. Laurel immediately dropped her crocheting and hastily stood up. She hadn’t even heard the car drive up, though she was listening for it. “Hello, dear,” she called out anxiously as she came forward to greet Dillon. “I’ve kept dinner warm for you,” she added. “It’s Salisbury steak…” Laurel’s voice died away uncertainly for Dillon didn’t look right—not at all!  
          Dillon’s clothes were all askew, his hair windblown and out of place and there was a wild look in his eyes that Laurel had never before seen. Dillon seemed to look around the room and then he moved forward towards her in a tottering uncertain kind of step.  
          “Did you ask Cousin Harry to talk to me?” he began in a low threatening sort of voice.  
          Laurel gulped. “Y-yes, dear,” she replied nervously as he moved closer. She hadn’t asked Harry to keep it a secret, but with the way Dillon looked now, perhaps she should have…  
          “How _dare_ you talk about me and our family to an outsider!” Dillon thundered in her ears and he grabbed Laurel by the shoulders and forcefully pulled her near. “That’s _our_ business and it should stay that way!” he hissed fiercely. “Do you understand?” Laurel could feel Dillon’s hot breath on her cheek.  
          “Y-yes, dear,” agreed Laurel. But the admission didn’t seem to placate Dillon. He seemed angrier than ever. Laurel closed her eyes afraid of what he would do next. _“O.K.”_ she told herself. _“He’s angry. That’s better than being indifferent, right?”_ But she wasn’t so sure given the way Dillon looked.  
          Dillon pulled Laurel even closer… and closer… his hands squeezing her shoulders even tighter…   _“Thank you!”_ he whispered suddenly in her ear. Before Laurel could react, she felt Dillon’s lips on hers—and he kissed her!   The tenseness within Laurel drained away for she knew immediately that everything was O.K. between them, better that O.K. For it wasn’t just any kiss, but one like Laurel hadn’t had since, well, since before Holly had first gotten so sick…  
          “Don’t ever do it again!” Dillon ordered sternly as he released Laurel from his grip and instead enfolded her in his arms.  
          “Yes, dear,” replied Laurel meekly wrapping her own arms around Dillon. But she knew she would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant getting her Dillon back. After all, Harry wasn’t really an outsider; he was family wasn’t he? And the two kissed again—a long kiss that took Laurel’s breath away.  
          “I’ll be taking your car into work tomorrow,” said Dillon in a more normal voice when the kiss ended.  
          “What?” sputtered Laurel, disconcerted by the sudden change of topic. What had her car to do with anything?  
          “No questions,” admonished Dillon. “I’m going in early,” he announced. “I’ve a lot of work to catch up on and I’m taking your car.”  
          “But—”  
          “No questions,” insisted Dillon placing a finger on Laurel’s lips effectively silencing her. “I want my car gone by the time I get home,” he added. “You can sell it, trade it, or give it away for all I care. But I don’t want to see that car ever again! Do you understand?”  
          “Yes, dear.” Laurel didn’t understand but it didn’t matter; she was happy to let Dillon take charge again. A car was a small price to pay for getting the old Dillon back. Dillon kissed Laurel again and she kissed him back enthusiastically welcoming his warm embrace.  
          “Did you say you had some dinner waiting?” Dillon asked when they stopped kissing to take a breath.  
          “Yes,” said Laurel eagerly. “It’s Salisbury steak!”  
          “Good,” replied Dillon. “I hope there’s a lot. I’m pretty hungry…” and he followed Laurel into the kitchen.

*********************

          The abrupt silence woke Vernon with a start. “What? Huh?” he asked bleary eyed.  
          “It’s just me,” came a familiar voice.  
          Vernon came awake instantly. “Dad!” he said as he sat up. “What are you doing here?” Dad hadn’t visited Vernon in his bedroom in ages. He was standing by the radio and had obviously just turned it off.  
          “I just thought I’d see how you were…”  
          “Oh.”  
          “How are you?” dad asked as he sat down in the desk chair.  
          “Fine,” said Vernon automatically. “I, uh, guess I fell asleep while reading,” Vernon added. Vernon pulled a book from under his covers as proof of his reading. It was next to the flashlight he also kept under his covers for when mum turned off the light in the middle of the night.  
          “I see,” said dad appraisingly. And the look he gave Vernon was more than the simple cursory glance he had given Vernon the past few weeks.    
          Vernon got the feeling dad didn’t believe a word of what he had just said. Vernon set the book on his lap and nervously reached for the bag he kept on the floor near his bed. He pulled out a few chips and popped them into his mouth.  
          “You shouldn’t be eating in your bedroom,” said his dad calmly. “Food belongs in the kitchen and dining room.”  
          “Uh, yes, sir,” mumbled Vernon with his mouth still full of chips. He’d just have to hide his bag better…  
          “And this room is a mess!” continued dad. With a start, Vernon looked around at his room. Empty chip bags and soda cans were strewn everywhere… “I want you to clean this room tomorrow, understand?”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Vernon stifling the urge to pop more chips into his mouth. Things had been easier when dad wasn’t so interested…  
          “And, I was thinking, “ continued dad with a frown, “that it’s pretty dark in the house at night. Someone could stumble and get hurt. Perhaps we should get some of those lights intended to stay on all night. We could put one in the WC and maybe one in your room… What do you think?”  
          Vernon’s heart gave a leap. “I suppose we could,” replied Vernon carefully while trying to hide the eagerness in his voice. “If you think we should.” He had wanted something like that for some time but hadn’t known how to get mum to buy one for him without having to explain things he didn’t want to try explaining…  
          “Good,” said dad decisively. “Then I’ll put it on the list for Laurel to get when she goes into town tomorrow… In the meantime, I’ll leave you to your … reading.” Dad looked down in disbelief at the thick book in Vernon’s lap as he spoke. “That book must be interesting to keep you so engaged that you forget to turn off the lights,” he added dryly. “I look forward to hearing more about it in the morning at breakfast,” Dad added as he stood up. “Good night, Vernon.”  
          “Good night, dad,” replied Vernon. Dad turned and left the room shutting the door behind him.  
          Vernon groaned and got out of bed. Why did dad have to suddenly be so _parent-y?_   “Get me the biggest, thickest book you can find,” Vernon had told Holly and she had returned with something called _War and Peace_. The “I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep while reading…” line had worked numerous times with mum as an explanation for the light Vernon persistently left on during the night. Vernon regularly rearranged a bookmarker between the pages of his book for an added look of authenticity. But it was clear dad wasn’t buying it.  
          When he first got the book, Vernon had tried reading a page or two before giving up completely. The topic was dated, the sentences were confusing and the names were worse! A single page was enough to put anyone to sleep! But Dad was certain to grill him on it in the morning… Vernon decided he’d better get on the Internet fast to learn more about the book he had supposedly been reading.

*********************

          “Daddy!” squealed Holly. Dillon had barely opened Holly’s door and hadn’t even gotten the light turned on when Holly flown into Dillon’s arms nearly knocking him over in the process. “You’re back!” she cried excitedly. “I’ve been so worried!”  
          “Hey,” said Dillon comfortingly while he stroked Holly’s silky long hair. “I was only late a couple of hours…”  
          “I know,” whispered Holly. “But still…”  
          Dillon had been appalled at Vernon’s puffed appearance and the haunted look in his eyes. How could he have not noticed such things earlier? Unlike Vernon, despite the summer “incident,” Holly seemed fine—except...  
          “What’s this I hear about you taking karate?” Dillon asked her sternly.  
          “It isn’t karate, dad,” corrected Holly. “It’s Tang Soo Do!”  
          “O.K.” conceded Dillon, not that the change in name made any difference to him. If she was wearing one of those funny outfits it was still karate, as far as he was concerned. “Are you any good at it?”  
          “I’m already learning stuff from the yellow and orange belt levels!” replied Holly proudly.  
          “Terrific,” responded Dillon assuming that knowing skills from other belt colors was a good thing… “Why are you taking kara—this Tang Soo Do stuff?”  
          “I told you that before, daddy,” replied Holly glibly. “So I can learn to defend myself!” Her words came out too swiftly, too rehearsed.  
          “And…?”  
          “And it’s good for me to know…”  
           Dillon didn’t even dignify that lame reply with a response. He just waited.  
          Eventually the silence between them grew too uncomfortable for Holly to bear… “There were times, this summer,” Holly began. Her voice was serious, now. Dillon recognized the tone; he’d heard it once in his car when Holly had explained why she wanted to go back to— _that school_. He was glad it was still dark and he couldn’t see Holly’s face; it was easier for her to talk that way—easier for him to listen. “When I needed—” Holly broke off. She tried again, “when it would have been nice if—” and Dillon felt a lurch in his stomach imagining all the things she hadn’t said. Finally, Holly continued, “When I wished I could have done more to help myself…” Holly’s voice trailed off. She sounded so lost, helpless and alone…  
          “Oh, baby,” Dillon moaned holding Holly tighter. “What did they do to you?” There had been only one time during the summer when Holly had been alone, away from the family, and could have wished for such things. Dillon’s heart ached to think that those two hours had done so much to his princess and he hadn’t been there to stop it…  
          “I’m fine, honest,” Holly quickly assured him while hugging back. “And I managed without,” Holly’s voice faltered, obviously remembering things too unbearable to relate. Then Holly continued in a more confident tone. “I just promised myself that if I ever got home again, I would take karate so I wouldn’t ever feel that way again…”  
          “Is it working?” Dillon asked quietly.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly eagerly. “I’ve loads of new things to do should something, uh, something similar ever happen again…”  
          “What, uh, did happen?” Dillon asked hesitantly. He knew Holly hadn’t been strapped to some chair but did he want to know the answer?  
          “Nothing,” replied Holly softly. “Nothing at all, really.”  
          That was an obvious lie but Dillon let it slide. He realized that if Holly wasn’t telling him, then her story was probably full of magic and stuff he wouldn’t understand—stuff better dealt with by Harry. “Let’s hope it stays that way,” said Dillon with more confidence than he felt. Harry had promised that the children were “safe” this time, but then he had said that once before… Were they really safe? Would they ever truly be safe? “Tomorrow night, after dinner,” decided Dillon, “I want you to show me all the things you’ve been learning. I want to see if we’ve been getting our money’s worth. O.K.?”  
          “Yes, sir!” replied Holly happily. “I’d love to show you!”  
          “I expect you’ll be needing your rest, now” Dillon added softly. “Goodnight, baby.” He hugged her one last time.  
          “Goodnight, Daddy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**You are cordially invited to spend a day at**  
 **Chessington World of Adventures on August 17.  
**

**Sincerely,  
**

**Harry Potter**  
 **London  
**

**Pick-up at your house will be at 8:00 am.  
**

**RSVP  
**

          Vernon stared at the invitation in disbelief. Why would Cousin Harry invite him anywhere? He scarcely knew the guy. The letter had arrived two days after Vernon related a garbled version of the basic plot of _War and Peace_ to convince dad he’d been reading at night. No one had been fooled by the attempt. Fortunately, Mum brought home some night-lights that same day along with a new car she had picked out after trading in dad’s old one. Vernon was more interested in plugging in the night-lights than wondering why mum had gotten a new vehicle. With the night-light in place and glowing brightly at bedtime, Vernon no longer had to claim he had “accidentally” fallen asleep with the light on. That saved him from having to further read and make reports on that totally uninteresting book…  
          Vernon double-checked the envelope. Perhaps he had read wrong and the letter was actually intended for Holly… But no, the name on the outside envelope plainly stated "Vernon Wycliff."  
          Vernon considered the invitation. Chessington World of Adventures was a totally cool place! He’d gone there a couple of times with his family and once on a school trip. But to spend a day there with Cousin Harry? That prospect didn’t sound nearly so attractive. Cousin Harry was, like, _old!_   Vernon could not imagine the guy on a roller coaster or any of the other rides there. That meant Vernon would have to do the rides alone or not at all. The rides weren’t nearly as much fun alone.  
          It also took a while to get to Chessington. The thought of any car drive was enough to give Vernon pause let alone a long drive with Cousin Harry! What would he do with all that time alone with Cousin Harry? Borrrr-ring!  
          Vernon carefully folded the invitation and slid it back into the envelope. Chessington was fun, but not _that_ fun. Vernon could easily think of other things he would rather do that day. He put the envelope in the bottom of his desk drawer and slid it shut. Then Vernon grabbed his bag of chips and went outside to sit in the sun a while.

*********************

          “Vernon,” said mum the next morning.  
          “Yes?” Vernon was sitting at the table with the family eating breakfast. He had already finished two eggs, a sausage link and some scones. He had been considering a second link and more eggs when mum had gotten up to let the cat out.  
          “I found this envelope outside on the ground. It has your name on it.” Mum handed Vernon a familiar looking cream-colored envelope. “You must have dropped it yesterday when you brought in the mail…”  
          “Uh, thanks,” mumbled Vernon taking the envelope. “It looked exactly like the envelope he had gotten yesterday but it couldn’t be; that one was at the bottom of his desk drawer, wasn’t it? Vernon looked at the envelope closer—definitely a new one; it was still sealed.  
          “It’s from Harry Potter,” added mum effectively preventing Vernon from dumping the letter in his desk drawer with the other.  
          “Harry?” dad sputtered nearly choking on his food. “What’s it say?” He looked at Vernon expectantly.  
          Vernon gulped. He broke the seal and opened the flap. This time a second envelope fluttered to the ground as he pulled the paper. Laurel bent to pick it up. She looked at it briefly before handing it to Vernon.  
          “Well,” demanded dad. “What’s it say?”  
          “It’s an invitation,” Vernon admitted reluctantly once he had unfolded the paper.  
          “An invitation? To what?”  
          “To go to Chessington World of Adventures.”  
          “Wow!” said Holly enviously.  
          “Chessington, that’s good,” said dad eagerly. “When?”  
          “Uh,” Vernon rechecked the date. “Tomorrow.”  
          “What’s the other envelope for?” asked Holly curiously.  
          “That’s to reply,” explained mum. “It’s stamped and addressed all ready for a response. But I don’t see how it can get to Mr. Potter in time…”  
          “It’ll make it!” said dad confidently. “Go write your acceptance, Vernon, and I’ll get it off this morning on my way to work!”  
          “But I don’t want to go!” said Vernon bluntly. Dad was acting really weird. He’d never been this eager about anything related to Cousin Harry before.  
          "What?” thundered dad, “Of course you want to go! Chessington is not cheap! How could you turn down an invitation like that?”  
          “I don’t want to go,” replied Vernon stubbornly.  
          “Why not?” queried mum mildly. “It sounds like a terrific idea. You haven’t been anywhere since we got back. I should think you’d welcome a chance to get out of the house.”  
          “I’m busy!” replied Vernon.  
          “No you’re not,” chimed in Holly bluntly while pouring herself a second glass of juice. “You just sit around the house all day, every day and do nothing!”  
          “But I barely know the guy,” protested Vernon. Surely his dad would understand that.  
          “Cousin Harry saved your life,” growled dad. “How much more do you need to know? The least you can do is spend a day with him!”  
          “I don’t want to go!” reiterated Vernon. “Holly, help me out here, will you?” he begged turning to his sister. “You know I don’t want to go!”  
          “Can’t,” said Holly promptly. “I’m blocking.” And she proceeded to finish her glass of juice.  
          “Yeah, right,” snorted Vernon and he stomped out of the kitchen.  
          “Were not through with this!” shouted dad as Vernon retreated into his room and slammed the door shut.

********************

          Later, Holly knocked on Vernon’s bedroom door and, without waiting for a response, came on in shutting the door behind her. She sat down next to Vernon on the bed.  
          “Lot of help you were,” growled Vernon as he grabbed his bag of chips, got up and promptly moved away from Holly to sit in the desk chair.  
          “I’m sorry,” began Holly, “But dad is really set on this. I don’t know why, but he is. And there is nothing you or I can do or say to change his mind.  
          “You got him to let you go to Hogwarts last year,” reminded Vernon while he popped another chip in his already full mouth.  
          “No I didn’t,” corrected Holly softly. “Not really.” Then she added in a small voice, “Cousin Harry did,”  
          “Oh.” Vernon stuffed two more chips into his mouth. He hadn’t known that.  
          “Dad’s not going to let up,” Holly told him sincerely.   
          “I know,” muttered Vernon worriedly while reaching for some more chips. Vernon well remembered Holly and dad’s fight last year. Being on the sidelines was bad enough. Vernon had no desire to become the focus of dad’s rage.  
          “He called work,” added Holly. “Dad told them he might be a bit late coming in because he had something important to take care of first,” she continued. “He promised to stay late tonight to make up for it if necessary.”  
          “Great!” muttered Vernon darkly. He shoved some more chips into his mouth and then took a long drink from the soda on his desk. It was warm and flat, but he didn’t care.  
          “Why don’t you just tell Cousin Harry you don’t want to go?” suggested Holly thoughtfully. “He’s pretty reasonable.”  
          “Yeah, and how am I going to do that?” demanded Vernon. “If I write a refusal for the RSVP dad’ll get wind of it and hit the roof. And it’s not like I can call Harry on the phone or anything…”  
          “Tell him in person when he comes to get you,” suggested Holly. She reached under Vernon’s pillow, withdrew another opened bag of chips and pulled out some to eat. “If you agree to see Cousin Harry, that’ll get dad off your case and then you can tell Cousin Harry you’d rather not go.” Holly popped a chip in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Cousin Harry’s really not that bad,” she added. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”  
          “Maybe.” But Vernon was doubtful. If he said “yes” Cousin Harry would go ahead and buy the tickets and they probably couldn’t be refunded. He wouldn’t be happy about that…  
          The door opened without preamble and dad came in. His face was red and he looked ready to explode. “You!” thundered dad fixing his face on Holly. “Out!”  
          Without a word Holly grabbed her bag of chips, got up from the bed and left the room. Dad turned his attention to Vernon.  
          “You and I both know you aren’t doing anything special tomorrow,” began dad in a thunderous voice. “You can just as easily do “nothing” with Cousin Harry.  
          “But dad—”  
          “No buts!” continued dad. “Now I can’t force you to go, but if you choose to stay, then you should know that you will be grounded for the rest of the summer! That means you shall have no radio, no television, no computer games, and the only time you shall leave your room is to go with your mum and Holly to her karate class!” Dad stopped to take a breath.  
          “Karate?” voiced Vernon with concern while feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach.  
          “Yeah,” confirmed dad. “You’ll be going with Mum and Holly three times a week. That way you can’t sneak out of the house to the neighborhood store to get more chips while they’re gone, and no _snacks_ in your bedroom, either!” he added snatching the partially emptied bag of chips from Vernon’s hands. “And lights will go out promptly at 10:00 pm— _all lights!”_  
          Vernon gulped uncomfortably.  
          “Well?” dad thundered waiting for an answer. “It’s your choice!”  
          Vernon’s stomach churned queasily as he considered dad’s consequences. Now he knew how Holly must have felt last year when dad started taking away privileges. She had managed; he could too, couldn’t he? But was it worth it? At the moment, Holly’s suggestion of personally telling Cousin Harry “no,” was sounding better and better.  
          Vernon sighed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a blank piece of paper. “O.K.” he scrawled messily on the paper and then signed his name beneath. Vernon handed the page without a word to dad.  
          Dad took the paper and looked at it briefly. “Thank you, “ he said quietly and then he folded the paper. “I’ll get this sent off right away.” Dad turned and walked out of the room closing the door softly behind him.  
          Vernon thought about the prospect of the trip tomorrow along with the consequences should he refuse and his stomach gave a violent heave. Reaching out quickly, Vernon grabbed his wastebasket, tipped his head over it and promptly threw up.

********************

          Vernon didn’t feel much like eating at noon preferring instead to stay closed up in his room. When Mum and Holly left for karate, Vernon grabbed the rest of his savings and went over to the store. He bought as many bags of chips as he could. Vernon took the chips home and hid several bags in various places around his room.  He stashed the rest of the bags in the garage where his parents were not likely to look.  
          Vernon wouldn’t have joined the family for dinner, but dad insisted. It was an uncomfortable meal. No one spoke about what had happened in the morning or would happen the next day, but Vernon felt everyone’s eyes on him during the meal and could imagine why. Vernon gulped his food down quickly without looking at anyone else and hastily made his exit. After staring vacantly at the tube and finishing another bag of chips, Vernon retreated to his room.

********************

          “Chessington’s a neat place,” remarked Holly while sitting on the bed. She was keeping Vernon company in his room. Sasha had parked herself between the two with her front paws on Vernon and her tail brushing Holly as it moved lazily back and forth. Sasha was purring loudly and her front paws were kneading Vernon’s leg affectionately.  
          “I know,” agreed Vernon.  
          “And Cousin Harry’s not that bad,” she added.  
          “I know,” muttered Vernon absently stroking Sasha.  
          “So why are you dead set against going?” asked Holly curiously.  
          “I just am,” replied Vernon firmly refusing to explain further.  
          Holly reached out and stroked Sasha’s fur a while making the cat purr even louder and then she spoke softly. “It’ll turn out O.K. You’ll see.”  
          “What are you now?” demanded Vernon darkly. “Clairvoyant?”  
          “No,” replied Holly, “but I know Cousin Harry and I know dad. Cousin Harry would never let any harm come to you,” began Holly, “and dad, well he loves you and he’s really worried, but at the same time, he is absolutely certain you should do this.”  
          “Terrific,” replied Vernon sarcastically. “What about mum?”  
          “Mum?” Holly thought for a moment. “Mum’s worried too but she trusts dad.”  
          “I wish I had their confidence,” muttered Vernon morosely and he grabbed some more chips and stuffed them into his mouth.

********************

          The next morning, Vernon carefully dressed as if he were attending a funeral—his own! At 8:00 precisely, Vernon heard some commotion outside his room. A minute later Holly knocked on his door. “He’s here,” she announced. Holly opened the door to Vernon’s room and poked her head inside. “And he’s got a limo!”  
          Vernon’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t been up close to a limousine before. But it still meant traveling… He sighed and grabbed his knapsack. It contained his freshly charged hand held electronic game, several game cartridges and as many bags of chips as he could stuff into it. Then Vernon took a deep breath and stepped outside his room.  
          Mum and dad were standing with Cousin Harry in the living room. Their conversation stopped and everyone turned and looked at him.  
          “Hello, Vernon,” said Cousin Harry in a pleasant voice. “Are you ready?”  
          Vernon didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he woodenly walked forward—feeling as if he were walking to his doom.  
          Cousin Harry took that for a “Yes.” “We’ll be going, then. I’ll have him home by midnight,” he added to Vernon’s parents and started for the door  
          Vernon cringed inwardly at the return time. How would he ever survive that long?  
          “Uh, here!” said dad shifting his weight nervously. He shoved a wad of bills in Vernon’s hand. “Get something you like while you’re there.”    
          Vernon’s unseeing fingers closed around the cash. “Thanks” he said automatically as he stuffed the money in his pocket.  
          “Have fun!” said mum in a cheerful sounding voice.  
          “Yeah,” mumbled Vernon in acknowledgement. He stood stiffly while mum gave him a quick hug. Vernon clutched his knapsack tighter without returning the embrace.  
          “Get me something!” chimed in Holly cheerfully. Sasha left Holly’s side and began to rub her body affectionately on Vernon’s legs threatening to trip him in the process.  
          “Come along,” said Cousin Harry standing in the doorway.  
          Vernon gulped. He longed to blurt out _“NO!—I don’t want to go!”_ but didn’t dare, not in front of dad. Instead, Vernon moved woodenly forward keeping his eyes straight ahead. Vernon decided to wait until he was outside, out of dad’s hearing, and then he would tell Cousin Harry “No!” Vernon slowly stepped through the front entrance.  
          The day seemed grim and cold. Vernon looked ahead. The limo parked by the curb in front of their house was sparkling white with dark windows. It looked ever so long and forbidding. Standing stiffly at attention by the car door was a chauffeur dressed in a black uniform with gold trim. Mum and dad moved up behind Vernon to stand in the entrance. _“Darn!”_ thought Vernon in dismay. _“Now I’ll definitely have to go all the way to the limo so my parents won’t hear me! I might even have to get in the limo first so the driver won’t hear me…”_   That part wouldn’t be so bad as a look inside would be interesting. But there would be no escaping what would happen afterwards and Vernon didn’t want that. Vernon swallowed nervously and started slowly down the sidewalk.  
          Cousin Harry moved up alongside Vernon. “Have you ever been inside a limousine?” he asked conversationally as they walked.  
          “No, sir,” replied Vernon keeping his eyes forward.  
          “They’re really roomy,” said Cousin Harry.  “Lots of leg space— Leather seats, and stocked with all kinds of food…”  
          Vernon didn’t reply. He concentrated on moving his feet. Just a few steps closer, he decided, and then he would tell Harry…  
          “But you know the best part?” added Cousin Harry.  
          “Uh, Cousin Harry,” began Vernon unable to keep quiet any longer.  
          “The best part,” continued Cousin Harry as if Vernon hadn’t spoken, “is that there are no seatbelts.”  
          “I uh, don’t want to, uh, _what did you say?_ ” Vernon stopped in his tracks. He had been so focused on what he was trying to say he had not really been listening to Cousin Harry.  
          “No seatbelts!” repeated Cousin Harry in a cheerful sounding voice. “I find them so confining, don’t you?”  
          “Uh, yeah,” agreed Vernon, dumfounded by Cousin Harry’s words. “No seatbelts?” he asked to be certain of what he had heard. “You sure?”  
          “Positive!” replied Cousin Harry. “What’s more,” he added in a confiding tone, “those dark windows you see mean that nobody outside can tell you’re not strapped in!”  
          “They can’t? Not even mum and dad?”  
          “Not even your mum and dad. I’m sorry,” said Cousin Harry suddenly, “I think I interrupted you. What were you saying?”  
          “Uh, nothing,” said Vernon swiftly, “nothing at all…” Somehow the queasy pit in the bottom of his stomach had vanished, the birds had started chirping and the sunlight shone bright and cheerful. “Food?” Vernon repeated abruptly remembering what else Harry had said. “What kind?” Vernon hadn’t eaten much that morning afraid he couldn’t keep it down but now he suddenly felt very hungry indeed.  
          “Well, I don’t really know,” replied Cousin Harry thoughtfully. “Why don’t we look together and see?” Without even thinking about it Vernon eagerly followed Cousin Harry to the limousine.                        

********************

          Vernon had happily gotten into the family car when they were leaving that funny hospital in London. He hadn’t thought twice when he tugged on the seat-belt strap to buckle it in place. But when the strap pulled across his chest, Vernon felt his muscles suddenly tighten. He felt both sweaty and cold at the same time and a wave of nausea flooded his body. Vernon immediately released the strap and instantly felt much better. He spent the rest of the trip home in fear someone would notice he wasn’t strapped in. Fortunately, dad wasn’t noticing much but the road, mum was busy casting worried glances at dad, and Holly kept her head turned out the window while stroking her loudly purring cat.  
          But Vernon knew that would not be the case again. Mum was a stickler for car safety; she would never start the car unless everyone was securely strapped in. Just the thought of that seatbelt across his body was enough to fill Vernon with icy waves of indescribable fear and apprehension. Equally disturbing was the thought of trying to explain _why_ he didn’t want to use a seatbelt! That was too personal. Vernon wanted to forget about that day, not talk about it. So Vernon found it easier to stay home and keep out of cars.  

*********************

          The limousine was indeed well stocked with food. There were buttery round crackers and crunchy square crackers, soft spreadable cheeses with foreign sounding names, an assortment of salted nuts, and tiny red, pink and black round beads with a fishy taste that kind of crunched in your mouth. For drinks, there was milk, water, several kinds of juice with unfamiliar fruit names, and a fizzy cider that came in a wine bottle. Vernon insisted on tasting it all.  
          When he had eaten his fill, Vernon looked about and was surprised to realize they had been traveling! He could no longer recognize the scenery outside. They were well on their way to Chessington.  
          “Can I ask you something?” said Vernon as he leaned back on the smooth leather seat and stretched his legs. The limo _was_ roomy.  
          “Certainly,” replied Cousin Harry. He reached out and began putting away some of the leftover food.  
          “Why?”  
          “Why?” Cousin Harry set the box of crackers in its place and gave Vernon his full attention.  
          “Yeah, why?” repeated Vernon with enthusiasm. “I mean, Chessington, and this limo, it can’t be cheap and you hardly know me!”  
          “True,” agreed Cousin Harry.  
          “And this whole trip—” continued Vernon in a rush. “I know you and dad don’t get along, but he practically forced me to come with you today and I want to know why?”  
          “What do you think?”  
          Vernon took a deep breath. “I think you and dad cooked this whole thing up for some reason. Well?” demanded Vernon.  
          “And you would be partially correct,” replied Cousin Harry calmly. He leaned back in his seat and faced Vernon directly. “Your dad insisted I talk with you. The Chessington part was my idea. Or rather, Hermione’s.”  
          “Who?”  
          “Hermione,” repeated Cousin Harry. “She’s one of my friends. She said Chessington was a fun place to visit. And I thought it might be more interesting than a walk around the block.”  
          “Oh,” replied Vernon. “Well, I suppose it is,” he agreed reluctantly though he would have fretted less about a walk around the block. “But why did dad want you to talk with me in the first place?”  
          “I expect it was because he thought I might be more qualified to answer any questions you might have,” replied Cousin Harry quietly.  
          And as he spoke, Vernon felt a sudden tightness across his chest and a churning of his stomach. “Questions about what?” Vernon asked cautiously afraid he already knew the answer.  
          “About what you found in the tree and what happened afterwards,” answered Cousin Harry softly. His green eyes seemed to pierce right through Vernon.  
          “Nothing happened!” replied Vernon quickly, too quickly.   “All right,” he amended swiftly, “something did happen but it’s over now.”  
          “Is it?”  
          “Yeah, sure! I’m fine!” lied Vernon.  
          “You want to talk about it?”  
          “No. I’m good.” came the prompt response.  
          “You have any questions?”  
          “No. Holly explained everything,” replied Vernon swiftly. Never mind Vernon was rather faint and light-headed at the time and could scarce remember a word of it. Vernon took a deep breath. “No offense, Mr. Potter,” he continued. “But I barely know you and I just don’t want to talk about it. O.K.?”  
          “O.K.,” replied Cousin Harry easily.  
          Vernon eyed him suspiciously certain this was not over. “Can, I, uh, ask a question about something else?” Vernon was eager to change the subject.  
          “You may.”  
          “Are you really a wizard?”  
          “I am.”  
          “And do you have, uh, a wand and everything?”  
          “I do.”  
          “Can I see it?”  
          In response, Cousin Harry drew something long and slender from his pocket and handed it to Vernon. Vernon examined it closely. It looked like an ordinary stick: dark, polished wood that was thicker on one end and pointier at the other, not even very straight. Vernon gave it an experimental wave; nothing happened.  
          “It isn’t the wand that does things,” Harry said while watching Vernon with the wand, “but the person using it. I don’t know how that works,” he added thoughtfully, “but it does.”  
          “Can you, uh, do something with it?” asked Vernon curiously as he handed the wand back to Cousin Harry.  
          “I could but I won’t,” Harry answered as he returned the wand to his pocket. “It’s not a toy to be used for parlor tricks. Also, I promised your father that there would be no, uh, funny stuff, while I was with you today and I will, of course, honor his request.”  
          Vernon leaned back, disappointed. “What, uh, can you do with it?” he asked curiously.  
          “All sorts of things,” replied Cousin Harry without elaborating.  
          “Can you make it light up?” Vernon vaguely remembered Holly had held up a lit stick while he had been in that room and she had to get the straps off somehow…  
          “Yes.”  
          “And break things?” Holly had tried to make the wall break to get them out of that room but that hadn’t worked.  
          “If you know the right spell.”  
          “And forget stuff?” Vernon leaned forward for the answer. This was the important question.  
          “Is there something you would like to forget?”  
          “Yes, no, I mean, I don’t know,” replied Vernon evasively. “Maybe…”  
          “Tinkering with someone’s mind is not something lightly taken,” replied Cousin Harry carefully. “For you, I would make it happen, if that is what you truly wished.” They both knew what Vernon was asking without further explanation given. Vernon leaned back, almost relieved. “But not today,” added Cousin Harry. “I promised your father...”  
          Vernon sighed and closed his eyes, disappointed.  
          “Perhaps you should discuss this with Holly before you come to any final decision,” suggested Cousin Harry calmly. “She and I had a similar conversation a while ago…”  
          “Oh,” and Vernon remembered that it hadn’t been Holly’s first time in that room… It never occurred to him that Holly might have had problems. She always seemed so together since attending Hogwarts. “What did she decide?” asked Vernon curiously.  
          “Holly decided she wanted her memories,” replied Harry without emotion, “both good and bad. But her reasons may not be yours. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss what happened?” asked Cousin Harry. “It can help if you share your experiences with someone who can understand—”  
          “You don’t understand anything!” snapped Vernon. “You can’t begin to!” he continued with his body tense and green eyes blazing. “You weren’t there!” Vernon glared at Cousin Harry daring him to challenge his declaration. For a while the two stared at each other.  
          “No,” agreed Cousin Harry quietly breaking the long silence between them. “I wasn’t.” And Vernon suddenly remembered that it was Cousin Harry who supposedly died that day, killed by the huge snake in the mirror. That was a connection of sorts, but not enough.  
          Vernon took a deep breath and spoke firmly, “I said before I don’t want to talk about it and I mean it!!!”  
          “Very well,” said Cousin Harry. He reached over behind the chauffeur and gently knocked twice on the window dividing them.  
          “What’d you do that for?” asked Vernon suspiciously, certain it was part of another attempt to get him to talk. Dad would have never let go of something so easily.  
          “That was to let the chauffeur know we are ready. We’ve a brief stop to make at a newsstand before we get to Chessington,” replied Cousin Harry. Then he leaned back in his seat, reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a cell phone. He kept it open as they drove checking it frequently. “You want anything while we’re there—a book or chips or something?” Cousin Harry asked looking over at Vernon.  
          “No,” replied Vernon absently clutching his knapsack. He watched his Cousin warily, alert for a new approach. But Cousin Harry seemed to ignore Vernon and instead divided his time between looking out the window and checking his cell phone.  
          “That’s it?” Vernon blurted suddenly in disbelief. “You aren’t going to question me any more?”  
          “Of course not,” replied Cousin Harry looking up at Vernon. “I gave you ample opportunity for conversation fulfilling my obligation to your father and you’ve made it very clear you do not wish to talk. I have no intention of trying to force you to do otherwise. We’re still going to Chessington so the day won’t be a total waste. Cousin Harry returned his attention to the cell phone.  
          The limo slowed to a stop at a curbside. Vernon looked out and saw a small newsstand. A young boy with black hair stepped out from behind the stacks and moved swiftly towards them. The boy opened the limo door and slid in besides Vernon, across from Cousin Harry. As soon as the door slammed shut, the limo took smoothly off and joined the other traffic in the road.  
          “Any problems?” Cousin Harry asked the boy in a low voice.  
          “No, sir,” replied the boy. “Eddie’s been watching the place all morning.” The boy was slender with green eyes and looked to be about Holly’s age.  
          “Good.” Cousin Harry looked up. “Vernon,” he said in an introductory voice. “I’d like you to meet my son, Albus. Albus, this is your Cousin Vernon.”  
          Albus inclined his head towards Vernon. “Pleased to meet you,” he said politely.  
          “I’m afraid I’m a bit too old for amusement parks, Vernon,” continued Harry conversationally, “so I thought you might enjoy some company on the rides… I know you’ve never met before,” he added, “but you and Albus have a few things in common. You’re cousins, of course, you have green eyes, and you’ve both touched a plaque bearing the name “Tom Riddle…”


	4. Chapter 4

          Albus’ face paled at the mention of the name Tom Riddle. Vernon Wycliff knew instantly that Albus wanted to talk about Tom Riddle as much as he did—which was not at all! That suited Vernon fine. Vernon nervously pulled out a bag of chips from his knapsack and opened it.  
          “You’re going to have to help us, Vernon,” began Cousin Harry while reaching into his pocket. Vernon’s chest constricted, his fingers automatically pulled out some chips and stuffed them into his mouth certain Cousin Harry would insist he and Albus “talk.” But instead, Cousin Harry pulled out a familiar looking tour brochure. “Neither Albus nor I have been to Chessington,” continued Cousin Harry, “so we don’t know what to expect once we get there.” He handed the brochure to Vernon. “Perhaps you could go over this map with Albus and the two of you could plan what you intend to do…”  
          “That’s easy!” began Vernon eagerly as he unfolded the map. “We want to go to here first!” he said pointing to a spot on the map. “It has the greatest ride ever there! And then—hang on!” said Vernon looking over at Cousin Harry in surprise. “Dad’s been to Chessington lots of times when he was a boy! You had to have gone with him!”  
          “No, I didn’t,” replied Cousin Harry with a cold edge to his voice.  
          “But of course you did,” insisted Vernon. “How could he have gone and not you?” Vernon put another chip in his mouth. “I mean you grew up together didn’t you? So you and he must have –”  
          “I didn’t go!” interrupted Cousin Harry flatly in a harsh icy voice. Looking up, Vernon saw that Cousin Harry’s face had become hard and forbidding. It had an expression Vernon had never before seen and was rather scary.  
          “What _is_ Chessington?” asked Albus. His question broke the tension between Vernon and Cousin Harry.  
          “You don’t know what Chessington is?” responded Vernon immediately distracted from his earlier line of thought. “It’s only the greatest place ever!” he explained enthusiastically. “Probably even better than Disneyland!” Vernon stuffed some more chips into his mouth.  
          “Oh,” said Albus politely. “That’s good.” And Vernon could tell by the blank expression on Albus’s face that Albus didn't know what Disneyland was either.  
          “Perhaps you could explain in more detail, Vernon,” suggested Cousin Harry his voice again the familiar calm and his face warm and open.  
          And so, in between more mouthfuls of chips, Vernon launched into a detailed description of the various things you could see and do at Chessington. By the time Vernon finished, he could tell that his explanation hadn’t helped. Albus clearly had no concept of what Vernon was talking about. He said he liked rides, but Albus obviously no idea what a roller coaster, a Ferris wheel or even a carousel was let alone ridden one! How could anyone be so ignorant! So Vernon mapped out the day for the two of them marking all the rides in order of preference and circling the places he wanted to be sure and visit while Albus politely listened to Vernon’s enthusiastic plans occasionally asking questions but offering no suggestions or objection.  
          When Vernon finished with the Chessington plans, Cousin Harry asked Vernon about school. Vernon launched into a description of his classes and scores. Albus listened quietly. Vernon saw Albus wince when he excitedly described how he had dissected a frog and an eye at school—the highlights of the year. Vernon could tell right away that Albus was not the kind who would enjoy discussing creepy crawlies.  
          Then Cousin Harry inquired what Vernon had been doing during the summer. “Not much,” Vernon mumbled, his mouth full of more chips. The big thing that had happened during the summer, of course, was that trip to look at boarding schools for Holly with the disastrous ending and Vernon didn’t even want to think about that.  
          But Cousin Harry didn’t seem remotely interested in the trip inquiring instead whether Vernon had managed to see some movies. Vernon had seen several movies before the trip. With a little prompting, Vernon described the movies he had seen, their plotlines, and the quality of special effects and acting of each. When Albus asked what a “special effect” was Vernon obliging replied going into great detail about different kinds of special effects, how some of them were created and which movies had which. During the course of his explanation it gradually dawned on Vernon that Albus had never been to a movie before.  
          Talking about movies naturally led to various television shows. Vernon had watched a lot of television during the summer. Albus asked several questions about the shows and how they worked.  
          “And this happens every day?” he asked in wonder.  
          That’s when Vernon realized that Albus had never watched before television either...  Upon further inquiry Albus admitted there wasn’t even a television in their home…  
          “But what do you do instead?” inquired Vernon surprised anyone could be so deprived…  
          “Stuff,” said Albus vaguely.  
          “But you at least have a computer and the Internet, don’t you?” asked Vernon while he opened a bag of cheese puffs.  
          “No,” admitted Albus. “What are they?”  
          “They’re fancy ways of communicating and getting information,” explained Cousin Harry. “Some people find them useful,” he added.  
          _“Sheesh!”_ thought Vernon in dismay as he put some puffs in his mouth. _“No wonder Holly never talked about her visits to Cousin Harry’s house. It must be boring as heck there!”_ On a hunch, Vernon pulled out his electronic game. Sure enough, Albus had never seen one before and hadn’t a clue as to what it was… Vernon selected a game cartridge and popped it in. “What do you do?” asked Albus curiously while he watched the game load up.  
          “In this game,” explained Vernon as he reached for some more puffs, “You hunt vampires and werewolves.” It was a fairly simple fantasy game but Vernon kept it because it was pretty cool how the people morphed into bats and werewolves.  
          “Perhaps you could select another game chip to play,” interposed Cousin Harry who had been listening to their conversation. “I don’t think this one sounds appropriate.”    
          “O.K.” said Vernon promptly. It didn’t matter to him what game they played but he was surprised at Cousin Harry’s objection. You’d think people who were supposed to be wizards wouldn’t get upset over a few werewolves…   But Vernon obligingly picked out another chip. “How about ninjas?” he asked Cousin Harry taking the opportunity to eat a few more puffs while awaiting his response. It was actually a rather bloody ninja assassin game but Vernon decided to not mention that part.  
          “That would be fine,” replied Cousin Harry.  
          “What’s ninja?” asked Albus curiously.  
          “Those are those super Japanese martial artists,” explained Vernon while he popped the chip into the game.  
          “Huh?”  
          “Martial arts!” repeated Vernon. “You know, karate?” He pulled a few more puffs from the bag while he waited for the game to load.  
          “What’s that?” asked Albus, his look as blank as ever.  
          “That’s where you use your hands and feet as weapons for defense,” replied Cousin Harry.  
          “Really?” asked Albus with interest. “People do that?”  
          “Of course!” replied Vernon with scorn. Didn’t Albus know anything?  
          “No doubt the game player abilities have been rather exaggerated,” said Cousin Harry, "but it should be interesting to watch what they do.”  
          The two boys played Vernon’s ninja game taking turns every so often. Albus caught on to the controls rather quickly and soon took an active interest in the action.  
          “People can’t really do summersaults like that, can they?” Albus asked after a particularly fancy ninja stunt.  
          “Course they can,” argued Vernon ready to believe anything of ninja assassins. “If you’re a Ninja. Ninjas can do anything!”  
          “You might ask Holly about it sometime,” contributed Cousin Harry. “I believe she has been spending her time this summer practicing karate.”  
          “Has she really?” said Albus eagerly. “What can she do?”  
          “You’d have to ask her,” said Cousin Harry vaguely. “In the meantime, it would seem we have arrived.” Vernon looked up and sure enough he saw the familiar yellow and red logo sign of Chessington. He hastily saved and shut down his game and put it back in his pack in anticipation of the day. Cousin Harry again pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open checking it as the limo pulled up to the entrance and came to a smooth stop. Vernon had the door opened before the chauffeur could get to it. “You can leave your pack here,” suggested Cousin Harry as he put away his cell phone. He had noted the pack clutched in Vernon’s hand. “That way you won’t have to carry anything on the rides…”  
          “Uh, maybe,” said Vernon hesitantly unwilling to leave his snacks behind. Then he remembered his dad had given him some money so Vernon reluctantly put his pack back on the limo seat and got out. At the last minute, though, Vernon reached back in, hastily unzipped his pack, and pulled out a bag of barbeque flavored chips—just to tide him over. He shut the limo door with the bag securely clutched in his hand. On the other side Albus and Cousin Harry got out closing the limo doors behind. The limo drove silently off and the three headed towards the entrance.

********************

          “This is for you,” said Cousin Harry as they neared the entrance. And he handed Vernon a prepaid ticket, one of three that he had pulled out of his pocket. “And for you,” he said to Albus handing the second ticket to him reserving the third for himself. Vernon already had his bag of chips open and was munching away when they reached the turnstile. He had offered some chips to Albus, but Albus declined saying he wasn’t hungry. Vernon handed the man at the turnstile his ticket and moved easily through. Albus was behind him and handed the man his ticket. “You push it to make it move,” Vernon heard Cousin Harry whisper to Albus. Albus gave the bar on the turnstile a hearty shove finally making it turn and walked through followed by Cousin Harry.  
          “Here,” said Cousin Harry once they were clear of the entrance area. He handed Albus a rather thick envelope. “Remember what I taught you about it. Keep it safe and spend it wisely.” Albus nodded and folded the envelope before putting it in a pocket. “Here is one for you, too,” Cousin Harry added handing Vernon a similarly thick envelope.  
          “No, sir,” argued Vernon, his mouth full of chips. “I don’t need it. Dad already gave me some money,” he added correctly guessing the contents of the envelope.  
          “This is my trip and my invitation,” Cousin Harry told Vernon sternly and firmly placed the envelope in his hand. “Your dad’s money is extra…”    
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Vernon reluctantly—but not too reluctantly. There were lots of things one could get here—a little extra money could always be used… “Thank-you, sir,” Vernon said as he folded the envelope and put it in the same pocket as his dad’s money.  
          Cousin Harry nodded. “Now,” he said looking around. “That bench over there looks pretty comfortable,” he said pointing to a bench near the entrance of Beanoland. “What do you say we meet back there at 10:00 tonight?”  
          “Sure,” agreed Vernon readily. “But aren’t you coming with us?”  
          “I think not,” replied Cousin Harry. “You’d probably have more fun without me. One rule, though,” he added sternly while looking Vernon straight in the eyes. “Stay together! Can you do that? Remember, Albus has never done this kind of thing before, Vernon, and I’m counting on you to explain things to him and keep him out of trouble.” Vernon nodded solemnly.  His heart soared at the prospect of being able to explore the park without an adult tagging along, but to be frank, Albus seemed a bit of a backwards bore. Vernon wasn’t sure he wanted to be saddled with Albus, but the rides were better with company and it could be fun to introduce Albus to the wonders of modern society.  
          “And Albus,” Cousin Harry added turning his attention to Albus, “remember what I told you.” Albus nodded. “Vernon’s family," continued Cousin Harry. "He knows the park and how to do things here so you listen to Vernon and stay with him, understand?”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Albus firmly.  
          “Good,” replied Cousin Harry. “Now go have fun!” he instructed, giving Albus a brief hug.  
          “Yes, sir!” agreed Albus while hugging him back.  
          “We’ll be fine!” assured Vernon. “Come on!” he told Albus while grabbing his hand and starting off towards Transylvania. Albus gave one last backward glance at his dad before giving in to the tugging and followed Vernon down the road.

********************

          “Slow down!” protested Albus as they hurried down the road. “Why all the rush?” He was trying to look at everything as they moved while Vernon barely glanced at the stores and stuff for sale.  
          “We’re going to the best ride ever,” said Vernon impatiently, “and there’s usually a line—a long line.”  
          “Oh.” And Albus let Vernon hurry him forward. “What’s 10 “E”?” asked Albus suddenly while he pulled Vernon to a stop.  
          “Huh?”  
          “The “E”!” repeated Albus. “They’re everywhere! What’s it mean?” He pointed at a small store with souvenirs prominently displayed.  
          Vernon peered at the store in confusion looking for the “E” that Albus was referring to.  
          “Where?” he finally asked.  
          “See the sign?” pointed Albus. “It says “Sale: 10 E.” What’s the “E” mean?”  
          Vernon looked again. “Oh,” he said with a laugh. “That’s not an “E.” That’s the pound symbol!”  
          “The what?”  
          “The pound symbol! You know, for money!!! That model castle is on sale and it costs ten pounds! Don’t you know anything?” And Vernon again headed off for Transylvania.  
          “I know lots of things,” replied Albus picking up his speed, matching his step with Vernon’s. “I just can’t talk about them.”  
          “Huh?” Vernon stopped and looked at Albus in surprise. “What do you mean?”  
          “Dad said this was supposed to be your day and he wanted to be sure you had fun,” Albus began in a serious voice. “He told me I couldn’t talk about anything with wizards or magic out of respect for your dad and I wasn’t to argue with you or mention things that would make you feel uncomfortable or out of place.”  
          “Oh,” replied Vernon as he digested this news. He suddenly realized that he had kind of done that earlier with his talk of television and computers. Vernon felt a twinge of guilt. Had Albus felt uncomfortable and out of place? “Look,” Vernon said hesitantly. “I’m sorry about talking about movies and things earlier…”  
          “That’s O.K.,” replied Albus calmly. “Dad said it was good for me to learn how Muggles lived and who better to show me than my cousin…”  
          “Muggles?”  
          “That’s what we call people who aren’t wizards. “ replied Albus. “Look!” he added pointing. “There’s another sale sign! 5 pounds, right? Is that a good deal?” Albus asked drawing out his envelope…  
          Vernon stared in surprise as Albus started towards the store. Was he really going to buy that stupid toy? Cousin Harry had instructed Vernon to explain things to Albus. Now Vernon understood why. Albus not only knew nothing about money and theme parks, but was also a total innocent when it came to shopping and buying in general and probably a whole lot more.  
          It would be so easy to ridicule Albus or just say nothing, and watch him make mistakes. That was what Vernon would have done if he still hung out with Trevors and Montague, his ex-school chums at Smeltings. But Trevors and Montague had teased Vernon a lot since he had broken off his friendship with them and Vernon hadn't liked it; it wasn’t the kind of fun Vernon wanted to have any more. Even if he was backwards, Albus was family and hadn’t done anything to deserve that sort of treatment.  
          “Wait!” Vernon said suddenly. He hurried forward and grabbed Albus’ arm to stop his forward progress. “You don’t want to buy that, not yet anyway!” he told Albus. “There are lots of stores here and lots of things to choose between. No matter how much money your dad gave you, it’s not enough to get everything you want. So you have to look at everything, compare prices and then decide what you want most.”  
          “Oh,” said Albus reluctantly. “If you say so.” And he returned the envelope to his pocket.  
          “Come along,” Vernon told Albus in a softer voice. “Rides, first, then shopping. That way you don’t have to hang onto stuff while you’re on the rides. Besides, I think I have a bit of explaining to do before you make any purchases.”

********************

          “Doesn’t your family use money?” asked Vernon as they walked.  
          “Course,” replied Albus promptly. “Just not this paper stuff.”  
          “Pounds and pences?” asked Vernon referring to familiar coinage.  
          “No,” replied Albus. “Knuts and Galleons.”  
          What the heck??? “You got any?” Vernon asked.  
          “Not with me,” said Albus sincerely. “They can’t be used here.”  
          “Of course,” agreed Vernon. Which meant it couldn’t be proven, either. “Um, do you ever go shopping with your parents?”  
          “All the time,” came the reply.  
          “Well, don’t your parents shop around a bit before actually getting something?”  
          “Not really,” reflected Albus. “But mum’s really good at bargaining.”  
          “Oh, well, you can’t bargain here,” Vernon told Albus, “and not only that, but the price you see is not the final price. They tack on sales tax and stuff too.”  
          “Sales tax?”  
          “Yeah—you know, money for the government.”  
          “Oh.”  
          But Vernon could tell Albus didn’t really understand and he wasn’t sure he was up to explaining. “Just make sure you have more than what you think it’ll cost when they ring up the sale…”  
          “Ring?”  
          Sheesh! “You’ll see,” Vernon told Albus not wanting to go into cash registers and things. “Look!” said Vernon pointing ahead. “There’s Transylvania! Not much longer. I was a little surprised your dad didn’t insist we not visit here,” he added, deciding to change the subject before Albus saw something else for sale…  
          “Why?”  
          “Because it’s Transylvania!” repeated Vernon as if that explained everything.  
          “So?”  
          “You know, home of Vampires!”  
          “Vampires live here?”  
          “Course not! This is all pretend. But your dad obviously doesn’t approve of vampires and stuff or he would have let you play my vampire game while we were in the limo.”  
          “Oh. It wasn’t the vampires he was worried about,” said Albus as they continued walking, “I don’t think dad wanted me to hunt werewolves.”  
          “Really? Why?”  
          “Ted’s dad was a werewolf,” said Albus simply. “I wouldn’t want to have hunted him.”  
          “What?” It was Vernon’s turn to stop and stare at Albus. “Who’s Ted? Who’s his dad?”  
          “Ted is dad’s godson,” began Albus explaining patiently. “I practically grew up with him because his parents died the year he was born. Mr. Lupin was Ted’s dad and he was a werewolf.”  
          “Right,” said Vernon in disbelief. Even he knew werewolves weren’t real. Why anyone would feed a fiction story like that to Albus was beyond him. It was a safe lie to tell, though. This Lupin guy was apparently long dead so proving whether he was or was not a werewolf was impossible.   On the other hand, Holly sometimes said the weirdest impossible sounding things too—like how her school was supposed to be haunted and Vernon was never sure whether or not to believe her—but it made her interesting to listen to. Albus was definitely getting interesting to listen to also. Vernon decided that if he challenged what Albus said, Albus might clam up and say nothing at all. In fact, it might be worthwhile to keep Albus talking…  
          “Uh, listen,” began Vernon hesitantly, “I know my dad doesn’t like wizards and magic, but I don’t mind that stuff. It’s O.K. with me if you want to talk about that sort of thing. I don’t have to tell my dad, you know. Besides, dad never said I couldn’t hear it.” On the contrary, Vernon figured that dad’s insistence that Vernon had to spend a day with Cousin Harry was like an open license to talk about that sort of thing.  
          “That’s good to know,” said Albus solemnly, “in case I slip up.” And Vernon realized Albus still intended to try and keep the parameters his dad (Cousin Harry) had lain out.  
          “We’re almost there,” said Vernon taking note of his surroundings. “See,” he said pointing to a huge imposing door with the word “Vampire” over the entrance. Beneath stood a line of people waiting. Vernon tossed his now empty bag of chips into the trash and hurried Albus to join the already existing line.  
          “Where’s the vampire?” asked Albus looking all around.  
          “Up there,” indicated Vernon pointing to the track overhead.  
          “That’s not a vampire,” observed Albus.  
          “Course not!” agreed Vernon. “It’s just the name of the ride, silly. It’s the coolest ride ever. You’re gonna love it! It travels so fast—and we skim over the trees just like a bat! It’s almost like you’re flying! Look! They’re coming in now!” and Vernon directed Albus’ attention to the track overhead and the happy looking people dangling from it. “What do you think?” he asked turning his head towards Albus.  
          Albus’s face, gazing at the track overhead, turned a deathly white! He swallowed visibly several times before turning to look at Vernon. “I, uh, don’t think I’ll be able to do this ride...” he said swallowing again quickly and stepped swiftly from the line. “You do it and I’ll wait for you here…”  
          What??? Vernon again looked at his favorite ride, the smiling people swinging back and forth; their hands up clutching the restrain—suddenly Vernon’s stomach gave a violent lurch! He raced from the line to a nearby tree where all his morning snacks came up with a vengeance! When he stopped, Albus handed him a small paper cup filled with water and a napkin. Vernon accepted the water gratefully. He was relieved it was Albus standing next to him. Vernon didn’t have to make excuses or explain anything to Albus. Albus not only knew why Vernon had done what he had done, but he understood!  
          “Perhaps there is some other ride we can do,” Albus suggested as Vernon rinsed out his mouth and spat on the ground.  
          “Yeah,” agreed Vernon wiping off his mouth with the napkin and looking guiltily at the mess he had just made. He let Albus take him by the wrist and lead him away from the line, away from Transylvania.

********************

          “Look!” exclaimed Albus pointing at the nearby sign. “The zoo’s just over here. Let’s go see the zoo first. It’s bound to have animals I’ve never seen before,” he added nudging Vernon down the path towards the zoo. “I mean I’ve probably seen them in books and stuff but that’s not the same as the real thing…”  
          Vernon numbly moved where Albus directed. He wasn’t really listening to Albus. He didn’t care what Albus said or where they went at the moment. Vernon’s mind rapidly went over all the rides he had intended to take only to abandon each and every one as now impossible! The whole park seemed like a trap filled with belts and straps! Vernon’s whole being shook with the realization that he was not the person he once was, might never again enjoy such things! The loss seemed devastating. It overwhelmed him and he could think of nothing else.  
          The two reached the zoo. Vernon stopped in front of the enclosures with Albus and faced the animals within without seeing them. Albus continued to talk enough for both of them acting as if nothing unusual at all had just happened. “… lion’s a lot smaller than Lulu,” commented Albus in a non-stop patter. “…course, Hagrid could have fed her some grow powder to make her so big but I don’t think so… We were all pretty glad when he finally gave Lulu away to his half brother Gwamp,” continued Albus conversationally. “That was one mean kitty! Even Holly couldn’t stand it and she’s good with cats!” The words washed over Vernon without making sense. “Now the boys in the dorm have bets as to what kind of creature Hagrid will try to raise next! Taylor thinks Hagrid will fill Lulu’s pen with water and put in some sort of aquatic creature like a kraken or a sea serpent. I think whatever he picks will be able to fly. Not a dragon, of course,” mused Albus thoughtfully, “because they’re protected, but something just as—”  
          “It’s not fair!” burst out Vernon interrupting Albus’ dialogue. “I used to ride a car for hours at a time without a second thought! Now, after a couple hours in _that room_ I can’t even think about anything across my chest or lap without getting all shaky inside!”  
          “You mean you don’t know?” questioned Albus turning to Vernon. Albus’ face had a strange look to it and his green eyes seemed to pierce right through him.  
          “Know what?” asked Vernon, his nausea suddenly forgotten only to be replaced by a cold sinking sensation at the bottom of his stomach.  
          “You weren’t in there for a couple of hours!” began Albus. “It was more like a couple of days! Maybe three or four!”  
          “What?!!!” exclaimed Vernon. “That can’t be!!” he argued. “Mum and dad both said we were only gone a couple of hours!”  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Albus, “but I overheard dad tell mum that Healer Winonan thought you had been tied for over two days and Winonan’s the best there is!”  
          “But the sun was shining when I got out,” Vernon protested. “It was still the same day!” he insisted. “I know it was!”  
          “That’s what they told me when I got back to the dorms,” agreed Albus. “They said they’d only been searching for me for a couple of hours before I was found—but the things that happened to Holly,” Albus shivered, his eyes taking on a haunted quality. “Well they couldn’t have happened in only a few hours.” Albus turned and stared at the animals lazing in the shade. Vernon could hear the bustle of people nearby. “I didn’t have a clock to watch, didn’t much care at the time,” Albus added softly while not looking at Vernon. “But no matter what they say, I _know_ I was there for longer than a couple of hours!”  
          Vernon closed his eyes and gripped the nearby handrail for support. He had accepted his parents’ word about that day without question mostly because he wanted to forget it all anyway. But deep down he had also realized there was something wrong with the two-hour number. Dimly he heard Albus speaking again.  
          “I, uh,” Albus began softly and then stopped. “I figure,” he began again after a moment, “I was there for all night and the next morning—maybe twelve or thirteen hours total” he confessed. “I don’t know how you stood it for longer…”  
          Vernon opened his eyes and stared blankly out at the animals. Three whole days in that horrible—Vernon swallowed abruptly not wanting to contemplate it. Nothing had changed, not really, but the knowledge of the length of time had changed everything somehow. “Yeah, well, it’s not as if I had a choice,” he replied bitterly.  
          “No,” agreed Albus quietly. “I don’t suppose you did.” One of the lionesses rose languidly and walked across the enclosure to lap at some water. Then Albus added softly, “It’s amazing what you can do if you must…”


	5. Chapter 5

          “Come on,” said Albus after the lioness had leisurely returned to her original position and stretched out on her perch. “Let’s see what other animals are here.” And Vernon followed Albus down the path to look at the other animals. They passed by the tigers and the leopards, then moved on to the gorillas. Vernon was finally able to shake some of his gloom and take an interest in things while they watched the penguins swim for fish. They both enjoyed the monkeys swinging back and forth. One of the monkeys slipped and fell to the ground.  
          “Ouch!” said Vernon sympathetically as the monkey shook himself off. “That’s got to hurt.”  
          “It broke three of my ribs,” said Albus suddenly. He didn’t look at Vernon while he spoke but instead focused his attention on the fallen monkey getting back up on the ropes. It was a sharing of information and an unspoken inquiry.  
          “Four,” acknowledged Vernon without looking at Albus. “And then there was the dust!”  
          “It was so bad I couldn’t breathe!” finished Albus. “And the glass!”  
          “Holly threw this smelly sweatshirt on my face!” revealed Vernon suddenly remembering the shards of glass Holly had brushed off of him.  
          “Eweew!” sympathized Albus. “But I suppose that’s better than all the cuts and scratches I got from the glass…”  
          “Yeah,” admitted Vernon smiling ruefully, “but it sure did stink! I wonder where she got it from?”

********************

          “Dad can talk to snakes!” said Albus abruptly. They were in the Creepy Caves looking at Python Jade, a huge thick python sprawled out on the foliage.  
          “He can?” asked Vernon absently. Albus had kept up a steady chatter which easily offset Vernon’s silence. A lot of it didn’t make much sense but Vernon was content to let Albus talk uninterrupted.  
          “Yes,” confirmed Albus. “Clifford says his mum said she saw dad talk to a snake during a dueling contest.”  
          “Oh.” Vernon didn’t believe half of what he heard, at least the parts he remembered, but it was distracting and took his mind off other things…  
          “I asked dad about it and he said he could at one time, but doubted if he could do it now.” Albus moved up to the next cage where a bright green viper lay draped over some branches. “How do you forget something like that?” he asked Vernon but not really expecting an answer.  
          “I have no idea,” replied Vernon who was privately thinking: How had he learned it in the first place? “Did you ask him?”  
          “I did,” replied Albus with a sigh, “but he wouldn’t say. That means it probably had something to do with Lord Voldemort and dad never talks about anything to do with him.” They moved on to the next cage—a western rattlesnake coiled up on the sand between some rocks. “Rose says parslemouth is inherited,” Albus added.  
          “Parslewhat?” Rose was one of Albus’ cousins. He mentioned her a lot. From the way Albus talked about Rose, she was pretty smart—possibly an annoying know-it-all.  
          “Parslemouth—the ability to talk with snakes,” replied Albus. “Rose says it is inherited, which makes it even more weird as nobody else in the family can talk to snakes…”  
          “Dad hates snakes,” commented Vernon as they looked at a cobra sliding along the grass near the glass wall. “He says he had a bad experience with one once, but he’s never said what.”

********************

          They were in the aviary watching the brightly colored parrots fly from branch to branch before Vernon ventured to speak of something that bothered him. “Do you ever have problems, uh, sleeping?” Vernon asked hesitantly.  
          Albus frowned and stared out at the colorful birds. “At first, no,” he said softly. “I was sleeping in the dorm at school, you see,” he explained further. “There’s lots of noise around what with the other boys snoring and just breathing. But when I got home,” Albus broke off.   “The silence got to me!” he admitted suddenly, “I kept on waking up with horrible nightmares! I finally had to move in with James to get some sleep.” James was Albus’ older brother.  
          Vernon nodded in understanding. “I keep the radio on all night,” Vernon confessed. “Low, of course, but I can’t really sleep unless it’s on…” his voice trailed off.  
          “You’re lucky,” sighed Albus. “Our radio signs off at 10:00 pm. every night.”  
          “Radio?” said Vernon with surprise. “I didn’t know you had radio.”  
          “Course!” replied Albus scornfully. “It’s not like we live in the dark ages!”  
          “But that means you must have electricity!” exclaimed Vernon who distinctly remembered Albus saying something about torches…  
          “Electricity?” questioned Albus blankly.  
          “Uh, batteries?” said Vernon remembering radios could be used with batteries.  
          “What?”  
          “How do you make your radio go?” asked Vernon in exasperation.  
          “We turn it on, of course,” replied Albus matter-of-factly, as if that answered everything.  
          “But, what makes it operate?”  
          “Um, just does,” said Albus vaguely. “You want to see something neat?” Albus abruptly asked changing the subject.  
          “Sure.”  
          “But you mustn’t tell anyone!”  
          “O.K.”  
          Albus held out his left hand. The first finger had on a rather large silver ring. The ring bore the design of a head of some sort of creature. It had a red glittering faceted crystal in the center for an eye.  
           “That’s pretty,” said Vernon politely. He’d noticed the ring earlier when Albus had gotten in the limo. It was a bit big for Vernon’s tastes and no big deal as far as Vernon was concerned.  
           “Check this out!” said Albus eagerly. He cupped his right hand over the ring and put his left thumb on the underside of the ring. Immediately, the red crystal for an eye seemed to glow. “Works better at night,” Albus informed Vernon. “It really lights up the place… And I can do it with one hand!!!” he added proudly.  
           “Wow!” said Vernon immediately recognizing the ring’s importance. “Where’d you get that?”  
           “James made it for me,” replied Albus confidentially as he removed his thumb from the back of the ring. The red glow immediately ceased. “He didn’t like sleeping with a light on… Now, when I wake up in the middle of the night and it’s dark, I just use my ring. The light doesn’t bother James and I can keep it on as long as I like. See?” and Albus pressed the ring several times causing tiny red crystal to flash on and off.  
          “Neat!” exclaimed Vernon. “Can I see it?”  
          “Sure,” replied Albus pulling the ring off his finger. He handed the ring to Vernon.  
          “How’s it work?” asked Vernon examining the ring closely. It looked like an ordinary silver ring with a splotch of tarnish on one side.  
          “You rub or press the black spot and the light goes on,” explained Albus.  
          Vernon held the ring carefully and pushed down on the blackened area; he was rewarded with a tiny red glow.  
          “Do you think your brother’d make me one?” asked Vernon eagerly while handing the ring back to Albus. He remembered all too well the absolute darkness and how his arms and wrists had each been bound to a separate armrest with only the fingers and thumbs able to move. If he had had such a ring on his finger then, at least it wouldn’t have been so dark….  
          “Sure,” said Albus returning the ring securely to his finger. “We’d have to run it past dad, of course, but I don’t think he’ll say “no.” We need to find you a ring first. Solid silver with a glass or crystal stone in the middle and something you wouldn’t mind wearing…”  
          "I’m sure they sell rings here someplace,” said Vernon eagerly. “Let go look!”

********************

          The boys proceeded to make a hasty tour of the various shops within Chessington in search of the perfect ring. There was a lot of silver in the Mexican section, and a few possibilities, but Albus, mindful of Vernon’s own advice, insisted they visit all the stores before making a final selection. In the end, Albus selected a solid silver band with an oval center containing a deep blue star sapphire stone. It was attractive but not too flashy. Albus assured Vernon that James would be able to make the star and the sapphire light up. Vernon was careful to not ask for specifics. At the same time, Vernon was mindful of what dad would say when he came home with a ring; he didn’t want something dad would disapprove of.  
          “Do you want it engraved?” the shopkeeper asked Vernon. “There’s no extra charge…”  
          “I don’t know,” replied Vernon, uncertainly. What on earth would he put on a ring? He’d never owned one before and couldn’t think of anything fancy or exciting to put on it.  
          “Course he does!” insisted Albus stoutly. “He said there’s no charge!” Albus reminded Vernon. “Take advantage of it!” A tour of the stores looking at rings had given Albus a crash course on shopping finances and he wanted to make sure Vernon got his money’s worth. So Vernon got his ring engraved.  
          Once outside the shop, Vernon handed the bag containing the ring in its box to Albus. “You sure your brother can fix it like yours?” he asked anxiously.  
          “Positive,” said Albus. He took the small box out of the bag and stowed it in his pocket. Then he examined the plastic bag with its fancy logo design. “Interesting substance,” he commented while running his fingers over the smooth surface of the bag “I bet grandfather would like to see this,” he added. Then Albus carefully folded the bag into a tiny bundle and tucked it in his pocket with the ring. Vernon got the impression Albus had never before seen a plastic bag.

 ********************

           “I’m hungry!” Vernon announced as they left the shop. “How about you?” he asked Albus.  
          “Very,” agreed Albus and he followed Vernon to the nearest eating establishment. Vernon rapidly ordered a large, extra meat, double cheese combination pizza with everything on it for the two of them. Albus looked at the pizza uncertainly and watched as Vernon grabbed the first slice biting into it enthusiastically. Then Albus took a piece and tried it cautiously. After the first bite, he smiled. “This is great!” he commented. He took a larger second bite and began eating enthusiastically. He rapidly consumed the first piece and reached for a second—and then a third…   “It’s a wonder what you Muggles will come up with for food!” he added after beginning his fourth.  
          Between bites, Vernon looked up and saw a clock on the wall; it was well past the noon hour. “You must have been starved!” he commented reaching for a third piece of his own. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”  
          “I knew you weren’t feeling too well,” replied Albus taking another bite. “And it seemed rude to eat in front of you.”  
          “Oh,” and Vernon remembered how sick he had been feeling earlier. “Uh, thanks.”  
          “No problem.”  
          “What are some of the other foods they mention on the menu?” Albus asked Vernon curiously once immediate hunger had been satisfied. So Vernon launched into a description of the various foods available and what he thought of each.  
          “Here,” Vernon said on impulse to Albus after he watched Albus finish his cup water and then refill his cup again. “Try this.” And he handed Albus his soda to try. Vernon suspected Albus knew as much about the drinks as he did the food. “It’s pretty good.”  
          Albus took the cup and took a small sip. “Yes,” he agreed politely, “it’s very good.” And he handed the cup back to Vernon.  
          “But nothing you’d ever want to drink?” Vernon asked noting Albus’ flat expression and unenthusiastic response.  
          “No. Water’s fine.” The two finished their burgers in silence. Then Albus spoke as he idly played with the ice in his water with his finger. “The best drink I ever had,” he began softly, “was when Madam Pomfrey gave me that cup of water after, after coming out of _that room_.” Vernon’s body stiffened at the mention of “that room.” There could be only one room. “It was so sweet and cool,” Albus continued reflectively as he bounced the ice up and down. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”  
          “Yeah,” Vernon agreed remembering the water mum had dribbled down his throat. He had forgotten all about the water in his effort to forget that day. But now that he thought about it, the water she had given him had been positively wonderful! “I think I’ll get myself a cup of water too,” he said softly and he rose from his seat. Soda didn’t look nearly as good now.

********************

          “I’ve been studying the rides,” began Albus after Vernon had drunk his fill of water (and the water was every bit as good as he had remembered it!) Vernon’s stomach gave and unwelcome lurch at the mention of rides. “You know some of them don’t seem to have belts to keep the Muggles in… It looks like they have bars to hang onto instead…”  
          Vernon gulped. “So,” replied Vernon warily.  
          “A bar isn’t the same as a belt,” added Albus tentatively. “It doesn’t actually hold you in place, not like a belt or strap would…”  
          “True,” Vernon admitted uncomfortably.  
          “Perhaps we could give one a try…”  
          Vernon gulped down another long drink of water. “You should have brought this up before we ate!” he said remembering all too well the last time he had stood in line for a ride.  
          “Was too hungry then,” replied Albus promptly. (Vernon flushed guiltily.) “Besides,” continued Albus, “I seem to recall when we were in the limo that you mentioned people sometime puked at the end of rides… If it happened to us then, we would be only one of many…”  
          “I suppose…” Vernon didn’t mention that he had only heard stories people who had actually thrown up on the rides and he had never personally seen it happen.  
          “Well?” asked Albus. There was a pleading tone to his voice. Vernon could tell that Albus wouldn’t go on one unless he went with him. And they _were_ just bars. Surely that was different enough…  
          “If you’re certain,” he replied reluctantly. “We could maybe try just one…”  
          Albus smiled happily. “I know the very one!” he told Vernon as he gathered all his trash together. “Come on!” he said standing up.

********************

          Albus led Vernon through the streets stopping at the end of a line for a tiny roller coaster ride. “Have you ridden this one before?” asked Albus.  
          “No,” admitted Vernon. Of course he hadn’t ridden this one before. It was for little kids! Adults could ride it too, of course, parents with their kids—but it was basically for little kids. Vernon would have never considered a ride such as this.  
          “Good,” said Albus with satisfaction. “Then it will be a “first” for both of us.”  
          Vernon eyed the ride dubiously. Albus probably didn’t realize it was a “kids’” ride—or maybe he did and chose it for that reason. After all, if a little kid could handle it, surely so could they… “You serious about this?” he finally asked Albus.  
          “Yes,” came the reply.  
          “Then I guess we can try…”  
          The two stood silently together in line each consumed by their own thoughts. The line moved steadily forward bringing with it Vernon and Albus. Finally, they were in the front—it would soon be their turn to take a seat.  
          “You sure about this?” Vernon asked again as they waited for the coaster to roll up.  
          Albus’ face was pale but determined. “No,” he replied honestly, “but I’ve got to try.”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Vernon reluctantly as the coaster pulled to a stop alongside them and the gate opened to allow them entry. “Me too.” Vernon took a deep breath and stepped onto the floor of the coaster. Albus followed and the two sat down on the seat. Vernon resolutely pulled the bar down in front of them. It rested lightly on their knees. Vernon gulped. The touch brought back unwelcome memories of that strap—the one so tight it took his breath away. Vernon cautiously shifted his legs. That was good.   He couldn’t move his legs the last time; this wasn’t like last time! But before he could explore those feelings further, the coaster started to move.  
          “Hang on!” Vernon muttered to Albus as their cart neared the top of the first hill. He automatically put his own hands down on the bar in front of him. But he needn’t have spoken as Albus’ hands were already clenched tightly on the bar—far too tightly to be merely that of a first time rider…  
          The cart slid abruptly down and around. Vernon gripped the bar as the wind whipped his face taking his breath away and the forces of gravity pinned him to the seat. Suddenly they slowed as the carts inched their way upwards again. Then down and around again—faster and faster… Three times around they went before the carts slid to a stop where they had begun. The bar pulled up and gates again opened so they could leave. Vernon ventured a look at Albus. His green eyes sparkled with excitement.  
          “We made it!” Albus exclaimed voicing Vernon’s own feelings.  
          And then, in unison, they both said: “Let’s do it again!” The boys scrambled eagerly out of the cart and made their way swiftly to the end of the line…  
          After finishing the second time, Albus was ready to try the more adult versions of roller coasters and Vernon was happy to comply. The two roamed Chessington in search of rides with bars trying every one that didn’t have a long line going back for repeats whenever possible.  
          Finally the boys tired of rides and decided it was again time to find something to eat. By mutual consent they left the Mystic East section of the park after Vernon casually mentioned he thought the “East” included India.  
          “No curries for me!” laughed Albus as they settled down to a plate of fish and chips at the Pirate’s Cove area. “They smelled bad enough whenever I walked by Holly’s table!”  
          “That they did,” agreed Vernon ruefully remembering some of the meals he had to share while sitting next to Holly.  
          “Not that I would ever mention that to Holly,” Albus hastened to assure Vernon. “Course, the Slytherins teased her something terrible after she started in on the curry...”  
          “Slytherins?”  
          “Just some of the other students,” explained Albus. “They’re kind of snooty and mean. I think they were just jealous of all the attention Holly got.”  
          “Attention?”  
          “Sure. We all thought it was terrific how Holly found that plane and saved the people, all of us ‘cept the Slytherins, of course. I wanted to step in and tell them to lay off Holly but James said it would be best to keep out of things unless they did something worse than words. Fortunately, they never did. As far as I was concerned, a bit of curry was a far cry better than watching Holly turn into a walking skeleton like she did the year before.”  
          “She did?” questioned Vernon, surprised. “A skeleton? Why?” Cousin Harry had alluded that Holly had experienced some difficulties, but nothing he said suggested what Albus had just described.  
          “It was after, you know, _the room_ ,” said Albus in a hushed whisper. Vernon shivered. Albus took a long sip of water. “Holly never said,” he added, “but I think she had problems sleeping at night. At least she kept on falling asleep during classes and meals. Dad finally came down to talk with her. I don’t know what he said, but Holly got a lot better after that.”  
          “Oh.” Vernon selected a piece of fish and took a bite while he considered the new information. Holly had seemed fine that summer. Vernon had no idea that she hadn’t been that way all year… “By the way, she isn’t a vegetarian any more,” he told Albus abruptly.  
          “Really?” said Albus eagerly as he reached for another chip. “That’s great! What happened?”  
          “Something to do with puking up all over a wizard that scared her more than dead bodies,” replied Vernon.  
          “Oh?” said Albus curiously. “I wonder who?”  
          “Vernon shrugged. “I can’t remember,” he replied honestly. The names had been unimportant at the time. It was a rather interesting story when Holly told it to him but Vernon doubted he could relate it accurately. “You should ask her.”  
          “I will,” replied Albus while he grabbed a piece of fish. “This stuff is good!” he commented contentedly. “Perhaps I can talk Kreacher into making it.  
          “Kreacher?”  
          “Oh, he’s just our, uh, cook,” said Albus vaguely while suddenly looking down and slightly embarrassed. Vernon guessed Albus had just said something he shouldn’t have but Vernon had no idea what. He decided to ask Holly about that later.  
          “You know,” said Vernon after he popped the last piece in his mouth. “We need to get some souvenirs!” Thinking of Holly had reminded Vernon that she had asked him to bring her back something. “I need to find something for Holly.” Vernon added as he swiftly gathered up his trash and stood up. Albus followed suit.  
           “I should probably get something for Lily too,” Albus said. By now, Vernon knew Lily was Albus’ little sister. She was younger than Holly. “I saw some neat things in the shops over this way,” he added pointing towards the quaint looking structures in Transylvania. So the two set off towards Transylvania.  
          As they walked screams and shouts sounded from above. Both Vernon and Albus looked up to see the Vampire rider slide past overhead. Albus frowned. Vernon guessed that he was remembering the morning events, as was Vernon. Just thoughts of that morning made Vernon feel very uncomfortable and probably did the same for Albus.  
 ** _“NO!”_** burst out Albus suddenly. “I will not let him rule my days too!”  
          “Huh? What?”  
          “I know he’s dead and buried, dad said so!” began Albus in a rush. “Well, not buried, actually; they burned his body so no one would be tempted to use his bones for anything…”  
          “Who?” Vernon managed to ask when Albus stopped for a breath.  
          “But I hear him all the time at night especially in the dark with his horrid laughter and creepy voice telling me how dad and me will surely die—” continued Albus with determination while ignoring Vernon’s question.  
          Vernon stared at Albus in shock with the growing realization of whom Albus was referring to. Vernon didn’t hear voices at night but he knew what voice Albus meant. Vernon had scarcely given the weird black-haired boy in the black gown a second thought once he realized that the words were intended for someone else and the image was a projection of some sort. He hadn’t paid much attention to the video in the mirror either, other than to consider it rather bad filming. But the situation would have been different for Albus. Albus knew nothing of movies and believed in magic. Vernon vaguely remembered Holly saying it was reality not a film. If that were so, Albus would have recognized his dad and mum in the mirror and assume what he was watching was real. This would give the images he saw a more sinister meaning. What would it be like to watch your own dad die? Vernon couldn’t imagine.  
           Albus faced Vernon squarely, his green eyes glowing unnaturally. “You said this was the best ride at Chessington,” he told Vernon, “and I mean to find out for myself!”  
          “You’re crazy!” exclaimed Vernon suddenly realizing what Albus intended to do, or rather, try to do.  
          “That’s what they call me at school!” retorted Albus fiercely. “Might as well do something to earn it!!!” And he started off for the Vampire line.  
          “But you know what happened this morning, and why!” insisted Vernon catching up with Albus. “You were the first to refuse!”  
          “I know,” replied Albus grimly while taking his place in line. “And I was wrong! It’s daylight still and it’s just something that fits in front over my shoulders; I bet I could wriggle out of it if, if I had to,” he continued with determination. “And these rides,” Albus added, “they don’t last long—if we can stand strapped up for—for however long we were before, surely we can manage a few minutes more!”  
          Vernon spent the next ten minutes standing in line next to Albus trying to think of reasons to talk him out of this. The main one was the queasy feeling in his stomach that came from just imagining sitting in the chair.  
          “You can’t go!” Vernon said finally. “Your dad said we had to stay together and I don’t want to go.” Albus had dutifully followed his dad’s instructions about other matters during the day so there was a good chance Vernon’s refusal to join him would force Albus to back away. “You don’t want to either, not really,” he told Albus. And it was true: Albus was so pale Vernon was afraid he’d pass out in front of him.  
          “I won’t tell,” responded Albus bluntly. “And if dad finds out and I get in trouble, so be it. But you don’t have to come along,” he added. “I know it’s different for you. You were there lots longer than me and it’s still pretty recent. I’ve had a year of waking up in a cold sweat hearing that horrible voice and laugh echoing in my head. If I don’t do this, when I hear his laugh again, he won’t be laughing at my dad, whom he mistakenly thought would be in that chair, he’ll be laughing at _me!_ I can’t live my life that way, I just can’t!”  
          “Your dad said we had to stay together,” repeated Vernon obstinately.  
          “You’re not talking me out of this,” replied Albus resolutely.  
           Vernon studied Albus. Despite the paleness, he had that same determined look on his face that Holly had before she set out in the snowstorm to free some stupid cats… Unfortunately, that made Albus look even more like family and Vernon had been taught family should stick together no matter what. “Yeah, I know,” said Vernon softly. Albus relaxed visibly realizing their confrontation had ended. Then Vernon added, “I guess that means I’ll have to go with you…”  
          “What?” came Albus’ immediate response. “You can’t! You know what happened last time!”  
          “Yeah,” said Vernon with resignation, that familiar nausea had already begun building within. “And it’ll probably happen again.” He felt a sudden lurch and stepped out of the line as his stomach erupted. “Why couldn’t you have decided to do this _before_ we ate our meal?” Vernon muttered as Albus again handed him a napkin and a cup of water.  
          “They’re saving our space in the line,” Albus calmly informed Vernon when he had straightened. “The boys behind us have never seen anyone get sick _before_ the ride… They’re making bets to see if we really get on.”  
          Vernon groaned. Pity. Throwing up should have been a nice excuse to at least go to the end of the line… He spat and rinsed out his mouth several times.  
          “I told them you had a thing about heights you were trying to get over,” Albus added with a perfectly straight face. Was that a hint of a twinkle in his eyes?  
          “Great!” muttered Vernon sarcastically after he had wiped off his mouth. “As if I don’t have enough phobias to deal with.”  
          “Hey! I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?” responded Albus sounding almost cheerful at the lie he had just told. “Don’t tell dad, though,” he added confidentially. “He has a thing about lying…”  
          “I guess that means we’re committed,” Vernon moaned. Even Vernon knew it was one thing to get sick and back out in private with only family looking on and another with everyone watching…  
          “Yes,” agreed Albus solemnly. And as he spoke his face took on an ashen hue as if he suddenly remembered what they were attempting. “Come on,” Albus added determinedly and taking Vernon’s elbow, Albus steered Vernon back to the line. The people nearby clapped Vernon’s shoulders and gave him words of encouragement as he again stood in line. Some of those words should have been for Albus, but then they hadn’t seen how the hand holding Vernon’s elbow had shook while they walked over.

********************

          “You said they call you “crazy” at school?” began Vernon seeking a distraction, anything to keep him from thinking how they were slowly but steadily nearing the front of the line… “Why?” Albus was a little strange; Holly was kind of strange, but not crazy. Holly had assured Vernon that she fit into that Hogwarts school. After meeting Albus, Vernon figured everyone over at that school was probably the same as Holly and Albus. What would “strange” people consider crazy?  
          “Because I can see thestrals,” replied Albus tersely. His eyes were riveted to the rail overhead and beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead.  
          “Oh,” replied Vernon refusing to look at the rail overhead and ignoring the screams and shouts of laughter that came with it. Albus’ explanation didn’t tell him anything. “What’s wrong with that?” Vernon asked to keep the conversation going.  
          “They’re invisible and you’re not supposed to be able to see them,” Albus answered tersely, eyes still glued overhead. “Some people can, of course, but I’m not supposed to be one of them. You could probably see them though,” he said suddenly while turning and giving Vernon a long hard look. “But don’t tell anyone or they’ll think you’re bonkers too!”  
          “Oh,” replied Vernon and he swallowed several times telling his stomach to "stay put." “I won’t,” he agreed solemnly while still wondering what the heck thestrals were. “What do they look like?”  
          “Black with leathery wings and skeletal bodies,” Albus began. “I don’t want to talk about them,” he added abruptly. Albus swallowed several times too and wiped the sweat off his forehead.  
          “O.K.,” replied Vernon and mentally added thestrals to the list of things to ask Holly. Holly had never indicated the Potters were crazy, but seeing invisible imaginary creatures did seem near the deep end. Vernon was glad Holly hadn’t promised to not talk about wizard stuff to him. Maybe she could make more sense of Albus’ words.  
          The boys behind in line eagerly reminded them to “move up.” As he reluctantly shuffled forward, Vernon caught snatches of their conversation making references to skin colors and he had no doubt about whom they spoke. Albus’ skin was a pasty green white and Vernon was sure he looked no better. He felt as he had during the morning—as if he was walking to his doom. Vernon closed his eyes and tried to not think of what they were doing and concentrated instead on keeping his stomach under control. It was empty, but that didn’t stop it from churning and tying into knots.  
          “Here,” Albus suddenly said interrupting Vernon’s thoughts. Vernon opened his eyes. Albus had produced his folded plastic bag and handed it to Vernon. “In case you need something… I can find another to take home later,” Albus added. Vernon gulped and unwrapped one hand from the rail to take the bag. He had been gripping the handrail as tightly as possible with both hands in hopes the pain would take his mind off other things…  
          “I’ve already emptied my stomach,” commented Vernon looking dubiously at the bag in his hand. “I should think you need it more than me.” Now that he looked, Albus’ pale face had gotten even paler, if possible and his green eyes shone brightly, almost feverishly.  
          “If I have to puke,” replied Albus determinedly, “I intend to close my eyes and imagine I’m puking all over Tom Riddle! You said that Holly did that to some wizard and it helped her, maybe it’ll help me too! But I don’t think I can imagine doing that to him while holding my face in a bag…”  
          “No,” agreed Vernon smiling weakly at Albus’ imagery. It would have been nice to wipe that smug smile off that arrogant guy’s face. “I don’t suppose you can. Holding a bag definitely ruins the illusion.” Vernon refolded the bag and tucked it into his pocket—just in case.  
          The front of the line grew ever nearer. Vernon was dimly aware when they walked through the huge doorway and finally entered the imposing castle like building. Vernon focused his attention on the creepy decorations inside, all designed especially to set the mood in keeping with the vampire theme. He noted every cobweb and stared longingly at the coffins, wishing he were in one. Most imposing was the huge looking pipe organ and organist that played eerie music.  
          Vernon closed his eyes and concentrated on the organ music all the while slowly moving forward in response to the persistent tap on his shoulder. He let the musical tones and vibrations fill his entire body until nothing else existed. “You know,” Vernon commented suddenly while opening his eyes, “that creepy music sounds a lot like the stuff Holly plays on the piano.”  
          “Holly plays piano?” questioned Albus as if it was news to him.  
          “She did this summer,” informed Vernon, “but that’s because we don’t have an organ like you do.”  
          “Organ?”  
          “Yeah, you know, the two keyboard job at your school.”  
          “At Hogwarts?” questioned Albus blankly.  
          “Course!”  
          “There’s no organ at Hogwarts!” stated Albus confused.  
          “There must be!” insisted Vernon. “Holly wrote and told me she was taking organ lessons at school! She said it was a huge double keyboard pipe organ that had to be pumped to work.”  
          “Hogwarts doesn’t have an organ,” restated Albus firmly, “at least, if we do, I’ve never heard of it and have no idea where it is,” he amended. “But the school certainly doesn’t provide organ lessons!”  
          “Well, she has been learning it somehow!” argued Vernon. “Holly didn’t know a thing about organs or pianos last fall and now she plays really well!”  
          “She does?”  
          “Yeah!”  
          “Interesting,” Albus mused. “I wonder how she’s been doing it? Of course, I was so busy working on the potions contest with Rose last year that I didn’t pay much attention to what other people at school were doing.”

*********************

          “Time!” shouted a voice behind him gleefully.  
          “Yeah, it’s now or never!” came a second voice accompanied by a forceful shove on the back between his shoulders causing Vernon to stumble blindly forward.  
          “Are you gonna do it or loose it!” chimed in another voice. Vernon opened his eyes. There was no denying it: they were at the front of the line.  
          “You can do this; I know you can,” came Albus’ voice softly next to him. Vernon stumbled a few steps forward towards the moving seats. “It’s not the same; it’s not a strap, it sort of looks like a fat bar and goes up and down, not across, just a bar over your shoulders, no big deal; you can move your arms and legs the whole time and it’s daylight…” he encouraged.  
          “How can you be so cool about all this?!” Vernon hissed to Albus.  
          Albus didn’t respond. “…only a few minutes and it’ll be over,” he muttered, “it’s not a strap, it’s not like being tied, you can do this…” Vernon looked over at Albus. Albus was staring ahead at the ride oblivious of Vernon, his lips moving nonstop. Albus hadn’t been speaking words of encouragement to Vernon; he was talking to himself! The words trailed off. Albus stopped moving; the remaining color totally drained from his face and his green eyes were riveted on the chair and the shoulder bars.  
          “Come on! Make up your mind!” came another voice from behind. “Hurry up! We’re waiting!”  
          Vernon reached out and grabbed Albus’ arm. “I’m not doing this alone,” he said fiercely and pulled Albus forward. The two stumbled into the waiting seats. A cheer erupted from the onlookers but Vernon never heard it. Thoroughly sick, Vernon closed his eyes and tried to not throw up again. He felt the restraints press down over his shoulders locking in place, and before Vernon could react, the seat moved and a cooling breeze on his face indicating the ride had begun.


	6. Chapter 6

          Vernon’s heart raced uncontrollably and thudded loudly in his ears. His hands instinctively flew up the shoulder restraints to tear them away but the chair immediately tilted to the right and as the ground beneath him vanished, Vernon found himself clinging on for dear life.  
          In panic, Vernon kept repeating, “It’s not the same! It’s not the same! It’s not the same!” while staring up at the blue sky to remind himself that he wasn’t in _that room_. At the same time, Vernon’s hands clawed futilely at the restraints trying to get them off while his legs moved back and forth nonstop frantically trying to escape the confinement of the chair. All the while the chair swung this way and that moving faster and faster just barely skimming over the trees and around the bushes.  
          The train reached the top of a hill and Vernon felt gravity pull his body deeper into the restraints as the chairs tipped precariously to one side tipping him nearly upside down. His hands renewed their efforts at the restraints while the train sped down faster and faster snaking around shrubs and pathways before coming to a complete stop.  
          For a moment, Vernon could hear his heart pounding loudly while he gasped for breath. Then the train inched slowly up and up again. Abruptly it slid straight down faster and faster while swerving to the right and left as it descended. Vernon’s feet desperately reached out for the rooftops and branches that seemed frustratingly just out of reach.  
          Suddenly the ride swung right and descended into a dark cave like tunnel! A flash of bright light blinded Vernon making the darkness around him complete. Forgotten feelings of both helplessness and hopelessness buried in his subconscious surged to the surface. Vernon screamed uncontrollably in the inky blackness and renewed his frantic efforts to get out heedless of the distance below. Daylight resumed, but Vernon didn’t notice as he continued to desperately pull at the restraints. Vernon was back in _the room_ again helpless, struggling to escape with no hope of success and only hallucinations to keep him company.  
          Abruptly the forward motion stopped and the restraint snapped up yielding to Vernon’s tug. Vernon stared at the restraint in disbelief. One moment it had been hard and unyielding and then suddenly, not! What had happened?  
          “Hurry up!” urged an impatient voice.  
          “Huh?” responded Vernon in confusion. He looked around blankly at the loading area filled with people moving towards clearly marked “exit” signs and others taking their place on the seats in front of him... What?  
          Suddenly the memories came back in a flood! He was at Chessington! It was only a ride! Not _the room!_ Vernon’s body slumped with relief and he practically fell out of the chair. There were no supports nearby. By leaning his hands heavily on his knees, Vernon forced himself to stand. He looked around for Albus and spotted him still in the chair that had been next to him.  
          Albus had a blank confused look on his face. Vernon grabbed Albus’ wrist. “Come on,” he told Albus weakly. His voice sounded rough and scratchy. It hurt to talk. “Time to go.” Vernon pulled Albus out of the chair and away from the train no doubt much to the relief of the impatient people waiting for their turn to ride. Then the two staggered slowly up the walkway.  
          They didn’t look about or hesitate in the gift shop that made part of the ride exit for the Vampire but continued on outside. When they reached the open air, Albus broke free from Vernon and staggered straight for a nearby water fountain. Feeling weak and dizzy, Vernon found some shade by the path and sat on the grass. While Albus drank deeply, Vernon waited for his head to stop spinning and tried to sort out reality from memories.  
          When Albus finished, he went over to the shade and sat down next to Vernon. The two sat together silently for a long time staring at but not seeing the people pass.  
          Finally, Albus spoke. “That was,” he began in a hoarse gravelly voice totally unlike his usual one. Albus cleared his throat and tried again. “That was a very,” he paused searching for the right words. “That was a very _scary_ ride,” he finished.  
          “Yeah!” agreed Vernon in a grating unfamiliar sounding voice. He doubted the scare they had received was the one intended by the designers of the ride.   His throat felt raw and it hurt to speak. Vernon stood up on still shaky legs and made his way to the fountain. He savored the sweet taste of the water and the memories it brought. Vernon again rejoiced in the knowledge that he had escaped that room!  
          “I, uh, didn’t expect it would be that way,” said Albus hesitantly when Vernon sat down next to him again.  
          “Me neither,” agreed Vernon. He absently tore some blades of grass off and tossed them into the air and watched them drift to the ground. Vaguely Vernon wondered if they should take the ride again now that they had “survived” it once, if what they had done could be considered “survival.” He didn’t mention it, though. Once had been more than enough for him.  
          “You know,” began Albus suddenly, his voice taking on a rather cheerful note. “I think I’m hungry!” He looked over at Vernon. The color had returned to Albus’ cheeks and there was a sparkle in his green eyes. “What do you say we find out what kind of food they serve in Transylvania?”  
          "Sure!” replied Vernon promptly while relieved Albus didn’t suggest a second run. Now that Albus mentioned it, he _was_ feeling rather hungry. Vernon stood up and brushed off his pants. When Albus stood, the two headed off towards the Transylvania stores.  
          “Here,” said Vernon handing Albus his bag back as they walked. “Did you uh, you know…?” he asked hesitantly referring the bag’s intended purpose. Vernon would have never been able to unfold it in time had he actually needed a bag.  
          “Yeah,” confessed Albus grimly without explaining further. “I just wish he had actually been on the receiving end!”  
          “You said it!” agreed Vernon. He led Albus up to a food counter and ordered a burger with fries, his favorite. Albus ordered the same. The boys found an empty table and sat down with their food.  
          “This looks like a Muggle Burger,” commented Albus as he examined his food. He took a bite. “Tastes like one too!” Albus said with satisfaction and swiftly took another bite. “Now I know where they got the name!”

 ********************

          “So what are you getting Holly as a gift?” asked Albus as he popped the final fry in his mouth.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Vernon thoughtfully. He took another sip of water as he considered the question. “Maybe a charm—but she’s got so many of them already. Another t-shirt? She seemed to like the one I got for her birthday…”  
          “’Cept it’s a little cold at Hogwarts to be wearing t-shirts,” commented Albus thoughtfully. “Shall we see what’s in the stores?”  
          Vernon nodded. He collected his trash and stood up. Then the two boys did some serious souvenir shopping.  
          Vernon eventually selected a Transylvania Organ Music book for Holly along with a black hoodie sweatshirt embroidered with a colorful Chinese style dragon that wrapped around the body.  
          “Doesn’t look like any dragon I’ve ever seen,” said Albus critically as he examined the design. “And the wings are way too small to support the weight.”  
          “So!” said Vernon defensively. “It’s not like it has to actually fly! Dragons are imaginary,” Vernon insisted, “so they can look any way you want. Besides, I like the bright colors and it’ll go good with Holly’s green eyes!”  
          “Well,” sighed Albus in resignation, “At least the main colors are right.”  
          “What do you mean?”  
          “Black and yellow,” explained Albus meaning the black background and the bright gold stitch-work of the dragon’s body and scales. “They’re her House colors.”  
          “House?”  
          “Yeah, Hufflepuff—their colors are black and yellow.”  
          “Hufflepuff?”  
          Albus sighed. “Our school is divided into four houses,” he explained patiently. “We all stay in one of four dorms. Hufflepuff is Holly’s dorm.”  
          “What’s yours?”  
          “Gryffindor!” replied Albus proudly holding up his ring. “That’s the Gryffindor animal,” he said proudly indicating the creature with the red eye. “A lion, of course.”  
          In the next store, Albus picked out an assortment of edible insects for Rose’s little brother Hugo: a box of chocolate covered ants, a grasshopper lollypop, some cheese grubs and bacon-flavored crickets. “They’re not Bertie Botts,” commented Albus regretfully, “but they sound cool so I think Hugo will enjoy them anyway.” Vernon selected several favorite candies for himself and then suggested numerous types of candy that Albus could get for himself and James. “The more sour the better,” Vernon informed Albus contentedly while dipping his own lollypop in some “sour powder.”  
          The sales clerk assured Albus one could never go wrong with a stuffed animal for little girls—even not-so-little ones. So Albus selected a medium sized mustard yellow plushy teddy bear with dark brown eyes for Lily. “It’s very Muggle,” he told Vernon. “She’ll like that. But it’s also soft, silky and very huggable. Lily starts Hogwarts this year,” he added. “I think she’s a bit worried. I know I was worried when I started.” It seemed ages ago, but yes, Vernon could remember being a bit worried when he first started school at Smeltings, too.  
          Both boys picked out a box of assorted chocolates for their parents. (“You mean every piece is different flavoured and they’re _all_ supposed to taste good?” asked Albus in disbelief. “Fascinating!”) Vernon cringed to think what kind of candies they were used to eating…  
          It took longer to find a gift for Rose. She was apparently serious all the time. Albus informed Vernon that Rose thought the usual sweets, toys and games beneath her. Her nose was always in a book but with Muggle grandparents, she already had an assortment of Muggle reading material at home. Albus finally got her a thick book titled: _Pirates through the Ages_ , favoring it over the fatter one filled with all sorts of great illustrations that Vernon pointed out: _An Encyclopedia of Mythical Animals, People and Creatures_. Albus confessed he had no idea whether or not Rose even liked pirates, but he thought the _Pirate_ book might be the more factual of the two. Vernon couldn’t understand Albus’ logic; the front cover of the _Encyclopedia_ showed a dense woods. A unicorn and a centaur stood side by side in the center of the woods, an elf, a leprechaun, a brownie and a pixie peeked out from behind the trees, some tiny fairies flew overhead and a bearded giant towered in the background hefting a club. They were all clearly fantasy creatures. At the last minute, Albus grabbed the _Encyclopedia_ and added it to the pile while muttering under his breath, “It might be good for some laughs!”  
          “Are those photos?” asked Albus looking in the window of the next store.  
          “Duuuh,” replied Vernon stopping to look with him. Photos weren’t his thing unless he was the one taking them and he hadn’t thought to bring a camera today—hadn’t actually planned on going. The sign said “Paw Prints,” but there were all sorts of photos on display.  
          “Wow!” observed Albus, “They don’t move at all!”  
          “Of course they don’t,” retorted Vernon, “then they would be _move--ies_ not photos!”  
          “Isn’t that one of the rides in Mexicana?” he asked staring at some smiling people in a roller coaster.  
          “Looks like it,” agreed Vernon. “I think it’s the Rattlesnake,” he added. It was one of the rides they hadn’t considered taking because the line was too long.  
          “How do they get such good close-ups?” asked Albus curiously.  
          “Oh, they set up the camera in advance and time it to take a photo every time the train passes a specific place on the rails,” replied Vernon.  
          “Do they do that for all the rides?”  
          “No, just the really good ones.”  
          “Like the Vampire?”  
          Vernon felt an instant knot in his stomach at the mention of the Vampire. “Yeah,” he answered slowly. The thought of having been photographed during that ride was rather unnerving.  
          “I don’t remember seeing any photos…”  
          “They probably would have been in that store we passed through when we left the ride.”  
          “What store?”  
          “The one at the end.” Albus’s face was totally blank. “Uh, you were thinking about water at the time so you probably missed it” he added.  
          “Oh.” Then, “You think maybe we should see it?”  
          “No,” he answered slowly. “Not really.” Vernon wanted nothing to do with anything related to that ride, ever.  
          “But I’ve never seen myself in stills before,” persisted Albus. So Vernon found himself following Albus back to Transylvania to that shop with the photos… The photo was easy to recognize—a train of happy smiling riders and among them two panicked boys, too busy attacking their restraints to look up for the camera. It wasn't a very clear photo; a thick streak of white spots obscured the lower part of the photo.  
          “That’s not a very good photo,” said Albus finally.  
          “No,” agreed Vernon. Just looking at it brought back memories Vernon was already trying to forget.  
          “Still,” said Albus thoughtfully as he pulled out his money. “It’s proof of a sort. Not that I would ever show it to anyone.”  
          A short while later Albus walked out with his very own “still.” And because there was a “two-for-one” deal, Vernon had a copy of the photo too! Of all the horrible photos to be stuck with!  On the other hand, they got it for a discount due to a "photographic accident." The sales clerk was clearly embarrassed by the white spots.  "It's never happened before," she explained apologetically. "Dust must have been falling from the roof at the time and caught the light just when the flash went off..."  Vernon and Albus were too polite to contradict her or suggest the spots might have been caused by something else...  
          “You know,” said Vernon as he stuffed his photo at the bottom of his bag of gifts, “You are right about having a photo. We need a souvenir of us at Chessington. But we should get one that we wouldn’t mind showing everyone. How about a Western?”  
          “A what?”  
          “Come on! I’ll show you.” And Vernon led Albus back into Mexicana where he had spotted an old-style Western photo shop.

********************

          Albus was thrilled at the opportunity to dress up like an “American” and loved the funny “stills” showing people in brown tones instead of color. There were several Western photos on the walls depicting grim looking American men sitting in saloons, usually with girls in old fashioned dresses, or standing outside wearing chaps and big hats. Neither boy could figure out the purpose for chaps and once they put them on, thought they were rather difficult to walk around in, but if that’s what Americans wore…    
          The boys studied the photos on the wall so they could get that authentic “Western” look. The photographer helped a lot. Then he urged them to put on solemn faces explaining that in the old days, one had to sit still for several seconds to create a photo and it was hard to hold a smile for a long time.  
          The final photo showed a solemn Vernon sitting on an old-fashioned wooden keg barrel. He wore a traditional style cowboy hat with a leather vest, furry cowboy chaps, a belt with a big buckle, fancy stitched cowboy boots, and a bandana loosely tied around his neck. Vernon’s left hand rested on his hip while holding a coiled cowboy rope. His other hand rested on his right knee and held a pistol, its point angled towards the ground. Albus, also decked out in leather chaps, belt, boots, bandana and cowboy hat, stood a bit behind and to the left of Vernon. Albus’ left leg was bent and his booted foot rested firmly on top of a second, smaller wooden keg. Albus’ arms loosely cradled a rifle; its long barrel pointed slightly down towards the left.  
          “This photo was a terrific idea!” exclaimed Albus as they left the shop. “I can’t wait to show it to Taylor! He doesn’t have a “still” let alone an _American_ style “still!”  
          Vernon liked his photo too, but just because it was a western. He stuffed the photo in one of his other bags consolidating. Despite the extensive outdoors lighting, it was dark outside. Vernon looked around and found a clock. “It’s about time,” he observed rather regretfully. “I suppose we had better be getting to the entrance.”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Albus with regret sounding in his voice. “I wouldn’t want dad to worry.” He turned and headed towards the entrance. “You know,” he began reflectively, “I wasn’t so sure about doing this, but I’m kind of glad I did.”  
          “Me too,” said Vernon with surprise. He shifted the grip on his bags as he walked alongside Albus. Vernon had dreaded this day but it hadn’t turned out so bad after all.  
          THWUNCK!!! Someone from behind thundered right into them causing both Albus and Vernon to fall forward! Boxes and bags scattered everywhere.  
          “Jimmy!” shouted a woman from behind. “How many times have I told you to look where you’re going?” A middle aged woman rushed up and quickly scooped up a small boy that was tangled in between Albus, Vernon and all their bags. “Are you O.K.?” she asked with concern.  
          “Yeah,” Vernon muttered in reply. He was more surprised by the encounter than hurt.  
          “I’m so sorry,” the lady apologized kneeling to assist the boys in picking up their things. “It’s late and instead of slowing down, Jimmy seems to be on overdrive!” The toddler squirmed out of the lady’s arms as if to emphasize her point. Vernon glanced at her casually as he picked up his own things, and did a double take! If he wasn’t mistaken, the lady had slipped something into Albus’ bag! “Let me help you up!” the lady insisted holding out a hand to Albus. And Vernon could have sworn she had put something in Albus’ hand while she lifted him up. Then Vernon distinctly heard her say in a low voice, “Your father’s been spotted! He’ll meet you in the parking lot.” Albus nodded without speaking. “Sorry again!” the lady said to Vernon in a louder voice. “Jimmy!” she shouted anxiously looking around. Jimmy had run off again and was already making his way towards the next group of people. The lady rushed off after the boy, scooped him up again and vanished within the crowds.  
           “Darn!” muttered Albus as he slipped something into his pocket. “This is a _Muggle_ park! There’s no reason for them to be here! I was hoping he would get at least one day free of them!” Albus set his bags back down on the ground.  
          “What is it?” asked Vernon as he watched Albus fish out a brightly colored folded piece of paper with a free hand, presumably what the lady had put in. It turned out to be a standard tourist map of Chessington.  “What’s going on?” Vernon persisted when Albus didn’t answer. Vernon peered over Albus’ shoulder as he opened the map. There were two places marked with an “X” on the map. Albus refolded the map and put it in his pocket. Then he gathered up his bags.  
          “Come on,” Albus said standing and facing the opposite direction. “We’ve got to get going!”  
          "Where?” questioned Vernon though he could easily guess they were headed for one of the “Xs” marked on the map. “Why?” If Albus were to meet his dad in the parking lot, as the lady had said, they should still be headed the other way. That was also the direction of the parking lot.  
          “So they don’t see _us_ too!” replied Albus cryptically as he walked.  
          “So _who_ won’t see us? Why?” But Albus didn’t answer immediately. Vernon reached out and pulled Albus to a stop. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “ _Who_ spotted your dad?”  
          “The reporters, of course,” replied Albus as if that answered everything. He pulled free of Vernon and started walking again. “Or someone working for them.”  
          Vernon hastened to catch up. “So?” he questioned as they walked. “What’s wrong with that?”  
          “Dad doesn’t like reporters,” replied Albus briefly.  
          “He doesn’t? Why?”  
          “Hagrid says it’s probably because they wrote some rather mean stories about dad when he was younger.”  
          “Oh.” Vernon sped up to keep even with Albus. He was moving at a fairly fast pace. “So why are they after him?” he asked.  
          This time Albus stopped and Vernon nearly bumped into him. “Dad’s kind of famous, you know,” replied Albus matter-of-factly.  
          “He is? Why?”  
          “'Cause he killed Lord Voldemort, of course.”  
          “But that was ages ago!” sputtered Vernon.  
          “I know,” agreed Albus. “You Muggles may not know much about him,” Albus continued, “but defeating Lord Voldemort was a big thing in the wizard world, a _really_ big thing and it made dad a hero. And because of that the reporters have always kept an eye on dad’s activities just in general. Dad gets photographed a lot when he’s at public functions, but he won’t speak to the reporters or let us speak to them.” Albus resumed walking. Vernon followed. “I really didn’t notice them around much until after Holly came to school,” Albus added as he turned a corner and headed towards a small building in back labeled “Maintenance.”  
          “Holly?”  
          “Yeah.” Albus said drawing to a stop at the front door. “She’s an Empath and they’re really, really rare so that makes her news too—especially after Megan and the plane!” he explained. “But dad won’t let the reporters near Holly.”  
          “He won’t?” asked Vernon while he digested the news that reporters even wanted to talk to his sister.  
          “No,” confirmed Albus as he pulled out a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. After unlocking the door, Albus returned the key to his pocket. “Of course,” he added as he twisted the doorknob opening the door, “dad is only Holly’s guardian while at Hogwarts so Rita probably figures she’ll have a better chance of talking to Holly outside of school.” The door swung open to reveal a small room filled with various cleaning tools—mop, mop bucket, broom, dustpan and a clothes rack from which several shirts hung. Albus entered the room while he spoke. “She was laying in wait for Holly at the station last Christmas and dad had to chase her off. And last spring—”  
          “Wait a minute!” interrupted Vernon while Albus shut the door behind them. “Since when is your dad Holly’s guardian?” How had that happened? His parents never told him anything!  
          Albus turned to look at Vernon. “At least since the last Holidays,” he replied thoughtfully, “because that’s when we were all wakened up in the middle of the night by a very loud owl from Hogwarts; apparently Holly had broken the rules about magic outside of Hogwarts! Mum said she didn’t think the guardianship stuff extended through the Holidays and dad said he guessed he never got around to giving them your home address so he had to find Holly in the middle of a snowstorm and deliver the letter!” Albus turned to the clothes rack and pulled off the two shirts.  
          “Oh.” Vernon well remembered that night because he had been in the freezing garage with Holly when Cousin Harry delivered that message. He had wondered at the time how Cousin Harry knew…  
          “Anyway,” continued Albus as he handed Vernon one of the shirts. “Rose says Rita thinks that if your parents are asked, they will let Holly be interviewed and will want to be interviewed themselves…” Albus put on the shirt and indicated Vernon should do the same.  
          “Oh. Who’s Rita again?” asked Vernon as he examined the shirt with its familiar Chessington logo on the front and the word “Sanitation” printed in heavy black letters on the back. Albus hadn’t actually explained who Rita was but he kept on talking about her as if Vernon should know.  
          “She’s the _Daily Prophet’s_ editor and best reporter!” replied Albus while he buttoned up his shirt. “Wizard news!” he added seeing the blank look on Vernon’s face.  
          “Oh.” A picture in the paper might be neat, but Vernon couldn’t see dad granting an interview to anyone claiming to be a wizard, newspaper or not.  
          “This summer,” Albus added as he straightened out the shirt, “people have been following dad around like a leach!”  
          “Really? Why?” Vernon buttoned his own shirt on and watched as Albus reached for two baseball caps, also bearing the Chessington logo from the shelf above the clothes rack. Something shiny and black fell to the ground; Vernon recognized them as two unopened plastic bags that had been under the caps.  
          “Because of the hospital!” replied Albus ignoring the bags while he put on a cap pulling it low on his forward. “Someone spotted Uncle Ron coming in with Holly. Before they could investigate further, Healer Winonan put the whole Muggle Ward into quarantine!” He handed the second cap to Vernon to wear.  
          “Quarantine?” Vernon said in surprise as he tried on the cap. “He did?” That explained why the hospital had seemed so empty. The cap fit perfectly. Albus reached up and pulled the cap lower on Vernon’s forehead.  
          “Yeah! Winonan knew how your dad felt about wizards and figured the fewer wizards your dad encountered, the better! So the whole ward was restricted and then Aunt Hermione put temporary wards around the Muggle entrance so your family wouldn’t be bothered by wizards when you left. It worked! But Rita is furious. She knows something happened—something big, but not what and no one’s talking!”  
          “How come?”  
          "You kidding? Winonan’s a professional! He never talks about his patients and he’d fire anyone on his staff who did!” Albus bent down and picked up the plastic bags.  
          “But your dad—”  
          "Have _you_ told anyone about your time in that room?” interrupted Albus.  
          Vernon shivered. It was hard enough mentioning it to Albus let alone some complete stranger.  
          “Me neither,” continued Albus correctly reading Vernon’s expression, “It’s too personal and dad knows it! But Rita still wants her story and she knows Holly is the key. I heard Cousin George tell dad that the _Daily Prophet_ is offering a reward to anyone with information leading to the identity and/or location of the Wycliff family! Ever since it’s like everyone is watching dad wherever he goes cause he’s the only one _they_ know who knows where you live!” Albus unfolded the plastic bags. “It’s really annoying,” Albus added. “I think that’s why dad wouldn’t come along with us,” he said sorrowfully. “If someone spotted and reported Dad’s presence here, they would spend all their effort watching him and we would be able to slip out unnoticed.” Albus looked blankly at the unfolded sheets of black plastic in his hand. “Uh, what are these?” he finally asked.  
          “They’re plastic garbage bags!” said Vernon and he took one of the bags from Albus. His fingers rapidly found the edge and managed to separate the thin sides opening the bag. “See? I think we’re supposed to put our things in them.”  
          “Oh. That’s a great idea.”  
          “Why don’t you just tell them where we live?” asked Vernon as he stuffed his bags and packages in the black trash bag.  
          “And give Rita what she wants?” Albus stated as his fingers rubbed the edge of his plastic bag. “No way! I don’t think dad likes Rita very much at all and Aunt Hermione calls her a “Poison Pen!” Dad certainly wouldn’t turn her loose on your family if he can help it! Got it!” Albus muttered in satisfaction when the thin plastic finally separated and he was able to pull open his bag.  
          “How come we don’t know about any of this?” asked Vernon as Albus stuffed his things in the bag.  
          Albus stopped what he was doing and looked up at Vernon. He looked really different with his hair hidden by the cap. “Why should we bother you with it?” he asked with a confused look on his face. “It’s our problem not yours. I only mentioned it now because I figured you wouldn’t come along otherwise.” Albus stood and hefted his “garbage” bag over his shoulder. “How do I look?” He posed for Vernon’s inspection. Albus looked like a kid in a sanitation jacket carrying a half filled garbage bag. He didn’t look like the other sanitation workers Vernon had seen in passing while at Chessington but neither did he look like Albus.  
          “Uh, fine, I guess,” replied Vernon uncertainly, “and me?”  
          “Terrific!” said Albus enthusiastically. “Let’s go!” He opened the door and stepped boldly outside. Vernon followed.

********************

          “We need to keep our heads down,” instructed Albus as he closed the door to the maintenance room using the key to carefully lock it. Vernon looked around outside.  
          What does this Rita look like?” asked Vernon looking about. He could see lots of ladies around but they all seemed to be with families.  
          “No idea,” replied Albus promptly as he pulled out the map and checked their next destination. “I just got a glimpse of her at the station when she was with Holly. Tall, with blonde hair, I think. Dad moved really fast the moment he saw her. Mum hustled us off the station and away before I could get a closer look. I got the impression Rita’s very good at disguises.” Vernon peered over Albus’ shoulder. The second “X” was located at a wall behind the Forbidden Kingdom. The map didn’t indicate anything was there but it was a tourist map, not one for sanitation workers.  
          “This way,” directed Albus and he set off towards the zoo.  
          “So how do you know she’s around?”  
          “I don’t,” replied Albus as he walked swiftly with his bag dodging the other people headed in the other direction, “but dad does.”  
          “How?” Vernon asked bluntly as he hurried to keep up with Albus.  
          “That square thing that opens up and has numbers,” replied Albus.  
          “You mean the cell phone that he kept using in the limo?”  
          “Is that what you call it?”  
          “Yeah. Isn’t that what it is?”              
          “No,” came the reply. “We don’t have a phone. Aunt Hermione fixed that up. It helps dad keep tabs on Rita. Don’t tell anyone, though,” Albus added confidentially. “Rita’d be really ticked if she knew!”  
          “I won’t,” assured Vernon.  
          They reached the Forbidden Kingdom. Albus paused and pulled out the map to check their direction. “It looks like we want to go to behind the bathrooms,” he said. “That way,” he pointed and took off in with Vernon close behind.  
          “One thing I don’t understand,” said Vernon as they walked. “If you and your dad have truly never been here before…”  
          “We haven’t,” confirmed Albus.  
          “Then how were you able to set all this up? I mean the disguises and things? You had to have been here earlier to do all that!”  
          “Nope.” There was a small pathway behind the bathrooms. It was covered over with foliage and had no lighting. It looked dark and foreboding. Albus looked at Vernon and grinned. He held up his hand with the ring, pressed the ring with his thumb and a bright red light pierced the gloom. He walked confidently forward.  
          “Then how?” asked Vernon following behind glad of the light on the ring.  
          “The Hufflepuffs!”  
          “Huh?”  
          “The Hufflepuffs!” repeated Albus proudly. “When dad realized he couldn’t do anything without everybody watching he went to the Hufflepuffs. That’s Holly’s house remember? Well, the Hufflepuffs are really tight and they take care of each other. When they heard that dad wanted to spend some private time with Holly’s brother they were happy to help out. So while Dad was off touring Scotland with the _Daily Prophet_ on his tail, the Hufflepuffs made all the arrangements—got the tickets, the limo, the back up plans, everything!”  
          The boys reached a high brick wall, the edge of Chessington. “Rita never thought to watch the Hufflepuffs!” Albus concluded smugly as he held his ring high. The red light revealed a door with a keyhole in the wall. Albus set down his bag, fished out his key and inserted it into the lock of the door. Vernon heard a loud “click” as Albus turned the key.   Albus removed the key, turned the knob and pushed. The door swung silently out and away. “After you,” said Albus cheerfully as he picked up his garbage bag. Vernon stepped through the opening. Albus followed closing and locking the door behind him.

********************

          Vernon and Albus silently walked up the path. Their footsteps thudded softly on the loamy earth. Both sides of the path were filled with high dense shrubbery but the path itself was clear. They came to a stop on the edge of what appeared to be a narrow gravel road. Albus held up his lit ring and looked around. “There!” he said pointing and not far away Vernon saw what appeared to be a battered old taxi parked on the side of the road. Albus started walking towards it. Vernon followed.  
          “Hey Albus!” came a cheerful voice when they drew near. “Nice light!”  
          “Thanks,” replied Albus. His ring light winked out and he opened the cab door. The ceiling light of the cab flicked on automatically and illuminated the interior. The light was incredibly dim, but enough to see by. The cab interior looked well worn but clean. Albus slid into the cab. “Vernon, this is Rupert,” he said making introductions. “Rupert, this is Holly’s brother, Vernon,” Albus added while scooting to the far side of the cab making space for Vernon.  
          “Pleased ta meet you!” said Rupert with a grin and stuck out his hand to Vernon. He appeared to be a very young slender man with sandy brown hair, perhaps only a few years older than Vernon. Vernon took the hand cautiously; he had never before shook the hand of a taxicab driver let alone one that was probably a wizard as well.  
          “Come on in!” Rupert encouraged as they shook hands. Rupert’s grip was firm and welcoming. He released Vernon’s hand and Vernon slid in besides Albus. Vernon automatically grabbed the cab door and shut it. Immediately the ceiling light shut off but a muted red-gold light coming from a small circular panel located at the base of cab door remained on. There were two panels—one on each door in back. Vernon and Albus’ garbage bags blocked most of the light from the panels. The remaining light faintly illuminated Vernon’s feet and legs and cast weird shadows on anything above the seat.  
          “I didn’t know you could drive, Rupert!” said Albus as he stripped off his sanitation shirt and handed it to Rupert. Albus then settled back in his seat ignoring the seat belts provided in the cab.  
          “I just got me license last week!” Rupert replied proudly while Vernon set the garbage bag on the floor besides him and rapidly began to unbutton his own sanitation shirt. “Dad’s bin givin’ me lessons all summer,” Rupert explained further. Vernon handed the shirt to Rupert and silently nodded his thanks while Rupert continued to talk. “I aim to help dad wi’ his business!” he said. Vernon leaned back in the seat ignoring his belts too.  
          “That’s great!” said Albus enthusiastically. “Oh, yes!” he said and he dug his hand into his pocket. “Your key!” he told Rupert handing the key over to Rupert. “Worked like a charm!”  
          “Of course!” said Rupert smugly as he started the engine. “Got it on loan from Larry th’ Locksmith. His stuff always works!”  
         Rupert shifted gears and eased the cab slowly forward. The headlights remained off. It was dark outside, but not totally dark. Vernon could just barely see the lighter area of the road next to the inky black of the nearby foliage. Vernon strained his eyes to see the road.  
          “Yer dad’s been spending th’ day at th’ Chessington Potter family reunion,” said Rupert conversationally as he drove. Suddenly Rupert spun the wheel to the right and the cab jerked swiftly in that direction moving off the dirt to a paved road. Vernon slid into Albus crashing into the garbage bags along the way. “No relation, of course,” continued Rupert while straightening the wheel. “There were lots of people at the reunion,” he added while turning the wheel to the right again. Vernon, having just separated himself from Albus, slid into him again. “So they didn’t notice one more in their crowd,” finished Rupert.  
          “That was fortunate,” said Vernon while he gritted his teeth. He found the armrest on the left side and gripped it tightly as he spoke. There weren’t any streetlights! How was Rupert able to see to drive without the headlights on? The taxi swerved violently to the left causing Albus to slide into Vernon and his bags. By the sound of it, they had turned onto another dirt road.  
           “Sure was!” agreed Rupert turning his head over his shoulder to talk to them. The faint light in the car illuminated the underside of Rupert’s chin casting the rest of his face into darkness. Rupert wasn’t even looking at the road as he drove! Vernon’s other hand snaked out, found the seat belt strap and clutched it tightly as well.  
           “Course,” Rupert added in his cheerful voice as Albus extracted himself from the tangle and returned to his side of the cab, “it helped that they all got free tickets ta go to a Reunion at Chessington today includin’ transportation!”              
            “Transportation too?” asked Albus with interest while readjusting the bags that had slid everywhere earlier. “How’d you manage that?” Albus didn’t seem at all concerned about Rupert’s driving.  
           “Drove ‘em myself!” said Rupert proudly. The cab swerved sharply off the dirt road and onto another paved one. “Me first bus! A few close scrapes but not a scratch!!!” continued Rupert. Vernon gulped. A beginning driver, in the dark, not even looking at the road!!! Vernon never thought something might scare him worse than straight darkness! “I’ll be taking ‘em home after I drop you off,” Rupert finished.  
          “Does your dad drive like this?” Vernon managed to ask.  
          “Naw!” assured Rupert while turning the wheel to the left again causing Albus to mash into Vernon. “He’s better!”  
          “He tends to take the corners tighter,” contributed Albus in a low voice.  
          Vernon swallowed nervously. The cab swerved to the right again; Vernon clung tightly to the armrest to keep from crashing into Albus. “I thought we were done with roller coasters,” he muttered.  
          “I kind of like the idea of a bar, myself,” agreed Albus softly. Vernon smiled grimly.  
          “Bar?” said Rupert. “What bar?”  
          “Uh, nothing,” replied Albus swiftly in a louder voice. “I take it Rita showed up?” he asked changing the subject.  
          “I guess so,” replied Rupert. “Though none of us saw her. I don’t know how yer dad knew but ‘e did and passed th’ word ta head ya off if ya came his way,” he told them. “‘Course, ya went nowhere near Beanoland after that anyway so it was no big deal,” Rupert added while making what seemed to be a “U” turn with the cab. “Later on Mr. Potter gave th’ signal ta notify ya to take th’ other exit so I guess she hadn’t left. Mz. Timmons sez she saw ‘Arry standin’ in line fer the Ferris wheel… She sez to give Holly her love, by the way,” Rupert added as an aside. He turned the wheel and the cab gave another sharp lurch to the left. Albus didn’t crash into Vernon this time; Vernon decided Albus must have been holding onto his armrest too.  
          “We’ll pass it on,” said Albus.  
          “I figure he’s gonna give Rita the slip during the ride!” continued Rupert. He turned his head back to face forward. “Won’t that get her goat!” he laughed. Rupert put his foot on the breaks and cab stopped suddenly throwing both Albus and Vernon forward. “There’s yer limo,” said Rupert. He flicked on the cab headlights to reveal a sleek black vehicle parked directly in front of them. _Black!!!_ Wasn’t their limo white? Albus grabbed his bag and opened the cab door. Vernon hastily gathered his things and opened the door on his side as well.  
          “Thanks for your help,” Albus told Rupert while he got out.  
          “Uh, yeah, thanks,” said Vernon while he got out.  
           “Any time,” said Rupert agreeably as Vernon shut the door on his side. “Nice ta meet ya, Vernon,” Rupert added poking his head out the cabbie window. “Say “Hello” ta Holly will ya?”  
          “O.K.,” replied Vernon. Hefting his bag, he hurried to join Albus. As they drew near, the limo door opened silently. The inside light shone brightly, invitingly. Albus got in without hesitation pulling his things in besides him.  
          “Hurry up!” urged Albus as Vernon stared suspiciously at the door. No one had been there to open it! Vernon stepped closer and cautiously looked inside. He saw his knapsack sitting on the seat right where he had left it. Careful to not touch the door as he entered, Vernon slid in besides Albus. Scarcely had Vernon gotten seated when the door swung silently shut without any visible assistance, the noise of its closing caused Vernon to jump.  
          “That’s better,” said Albus leaning back with visible relief. “The windows of the limo are darkened and won’t show the light,” he commented. “I hate driving in the dark, don’t you?”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Vernon glad they hadn’t been driving in total darkness while in the cab. Looking outside, he saw the headlights flick on and then felt the familiar lurch of the limo in motion. Thinking about it, however, Vernon was not sure whether Albus meant the relative darkness of the interior of the cab or the fact they hadn’t driven with the headlights on. No matter. That was over now. Vernon reached out and grabbed his knapsack reassured to hear a familiar crinkle and crunch reflecting its contents. He unzipped his sack and pulled out a bag of chips.  
          “You still hungry?” asked Albus in disbelief watching Vernon tear off the top strip of the bag.  
          “Yeah!” agreed Vernon automatically while pulling out a chip. Vernon looked down at the chip and then Albus. “No,” he admitted honestly, “but I just can’t seem to stop…”  
          “You know why you’re eating,” began Albus softly staring at Vernon intently with his green eyes. “Don’t let him rule your life!”  
          “But—” began Vernon as that familiar rumble gnawed in his stomach.  
          “Look,” said Albus and he pulled out of his back pocket what appeared to be a simple strip of jerky. “I keep this with me always,” he told Vernon. “Just in case. If you can stand two days without, you can stand a little bit longer today, if you want…” Albus returned the jerky to his pocket.  
          He bent down, opened one of the limo cupboards containing food and rummaged about in back. Vernon watched curiously as Albus pulled out a light green bottle and two ruby red colored wine glasses. Albus handed one glass to Vernon keeping the other for himself. With one hand Albus easily popped the cork off the bottle and poured the contents, a clear liquid, into Vernon’s glass. He filled his own glass and set the bottle carefully down on the floor.  
          “I think a celebration is in order,” Albus began in a cheerful sounding voice though his face looked more serious than cheerful. “To our freedom from that, that _room!_ ” he said resolutely and tapped his glass gently against Vernon’s—a toast—as Vernon had often seen people do in the movies. The glasses clinked musically and then Albus brought the glass to his lips drinking deeply.  
          “To our freedom!” Vernon agreed solemnly his chips forgotten and he drained his own glass empty. The water tasted cold and sweet and Vernon remembered again the joy he felt when his mum had first dribbled some lukewarm water down his throat.


	7. Chapter 7

          “There’s dad,” commented Albus as they drove up to the Chessington entrance. The trip hadn’t taken much time at all. The ride in the limo had been as smooth as silk, especially compared to the taxi ride. Vernon looked out the darkened window and saw Cousin Harry standing by the curb. One arm held several various sized bags with the familiar Chessington logo. Cousin Harry’s head was bent intently looking at the cell phone held open in his free hand—except now Vernon knew it wasn’t a cell phone but some device to track the whereabouts of Rita the reporter.  
          Cousin Harry looked up at the limo when it stopped. He put his “cell phone” away and waited while the chauffeur got out and walked around to the side of the limo to open the limo door.  
          “Any problems?” Vernon heard Cousin Harry ask the chauffeur.  
          “None at all,” he replied.  
          “She’s still out there,” Cousin Harry told the chauffeur, “and she may not be alone. Make for Canterbury first. I’ll let you know when we loose her. If anyone else follows, try to shake them too. If that doesn’t work, go towards Norwich and keep trying… Let me know when you think you’ve lost them all and I’ll double check—two taps if it’s all clear. I don’t want anyone following when we take Vernon home.”  
          The chauffeur nodded his head. “No problem,” he said confidently. “There’s never been a tail that can stick long when I’m driving!”  
          “I’m counting on it,” replied Cousin Harry. He bent and slid into the limo. The chauffeur closed the limo door behind him.

********************

          “Hello there!” said Cousin Harry in a cheerful voice as he surveyed both Vernon and Albus. “Have a good time?”  
          “Yes sir, we did,” replied Albus for both of them as Vernon nodded in agreement.  
          “Good,” said Cousin Harry leaning back in the seat. “I did too,” he told the boys. Cousin Harry set his bags on the floor between them, glanced at the “cell phone” briefly and then his eyes flicked down at the black garbage bags. “I’m, uh, sorry for the last minute change in plans,” he told Vernon regretfully. “I hope they didn’t inconvenience you too much.”  
          “No, sir, they didn’t,” replied Vernon. “And I’m sorry for all the problems I’ve caused you,” Vernon added. “I mean with the hospital and all…”  
          “That couldn’t be helped,” said Cousin Harry dismissively. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with that.” Cousin Harry looked down at his “phone,” smiled briefly and then reached casually out and gently tapped the partition window twice.  
          “But I should!” argued Vernon. “I mean, if I hadn’t touched that –”  
          “Touching the plaque was _not_ your fault!” interrupted Cousin Harry sharply. “Don’t you _ever_ think otherwise! That plaque was cursed! You couldn’t have helped touching it even had you known what would happen. It might have even drawn you to the tree in the first place! If anyone is to blame, it is me! I should have realized that Tom Riddle was just as insidious as the man he later became.”  
          “That’s ridiculous!” scoffed Vernon. “People like Tom don’t figure on loosing.” To be honest, Vernon didn’t know much about other people but Tom Riddle’s arrogant manner reminded Vernon a lot of Montague, a Smeltings upperclassman and Vernon knew a lot about Montague. Vernon used to hang out with Montague and joined readily with his bullying activities until Montague’s antics had nearly gotten Vernon expelled. “I’m surprised he set up one plaque let alone two!” Vernon continued. Bullies were bullies, as far as Vernon was concerned and rather lazy whenever possible. “It’s not like you could read his mind!”  
          “No,” agreed Cousin Harry looking rather strangely at Vernon. “I couldn’t. Not Tom Riddle’s mind.” He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. Then Cousin Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Vernon. “You don’t have to worry about Tom Riddle ever again,” he told Vernon. “There are no more plaques of his hidden out there waiting to be found.” There was no hesitation or uncertainty in his voice; Vernon found himself believing Cousin Harry without reservation.  
          “That’s good to know,” Vernon said solemnly. Once was more than enough.  
          The limo silently glided on for several minutes as each person within reflected on the absence of Tom Riddle and his plaques and what that meant. A gentle tap sounded on the partition window. Cousin Harry pulled out and opened his “cell phone.”  
          “So what’d you get me?” asked Albus eagerly.  
          “Now why would I get you anything?” teased Cousin Harry in a lighter tone. He put his “cell phone” away, reached out and gave the partition window a double tap. “You had a chance to get your own things!” Albus sat back disappointed. Cousin Harry smiled. “I’ll show you later,” he told Albus affectionately. “Speaking of which,” continued Cousin Harry, “that bag of yours looks pretty well filled, Albus. What all did _you_ get?”  
          “Check this out!” replied Albus eagerly. He rummaged through his bag and brought out a flat folder. “It’s a real _still!”_  
          “So it is,” agreed Cousin Harry amicably while studying the photo, “but I’m not sure I like the idea of you holding a rifle…”  
          “It’s supposed to be an _American_ still!” retorted Albus scornfully. “You have to have a weapon to do an American!”  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Cousin Harry reluctantly. “What else did you get?” And Albus proceeded to pull out the various treats and presents he had selected for family members for Cousin Harry’s inspection and approval. When he finished Cousin Harry casually asked, “Have you any money left?”  
          “Uh, no,” replied Albus a little guiltily, “Not really. Just a few coins.” Vernon swallowed and wondered if Albus would mention the ring they had pooled money to get—Albus had been very choosy about the ring bypassing several less expensive but promising looking pieces claiming they “didn’t feel quite right for solid silver…” "We, uh, sort of spent it on food!” Albus added quickly. And for some reason both Harry and Albus looked at Vernon.  
          Vernon had unconsciously dug into his chip bag and finished several chips while listening to father and son talk together. Well, the chip bag was already open and in easy reach… Vernon looked guiltily from the chip in his hand to the half eaten bag. It wasn’t as like he had purchased the bag at Chessington or anything, but still the two looked at him… Vernon felt the need to speak, to justify himself… “Uh, this eating,” he began uncertainly, “could it be some sort of magic spell by, uh, Tom Riddle?”  
          “’Fraid not,” said Cousin Harry regretfully. “Tom didn’t expect survivors,” he added flatly. “There would have been no need to cast a hunger spell.”  
          “Then how do I stop myself from eating so much?” Vernon asked in frustration.  
          “Desire to stop should help,” observed Cousin Harry approvingly.  
          “And keep busy,” chimed in Albus. “You weren’t eating like this while we were at Chessington.”  
          “I seem to recall you were rather good at lifting weights...” mused Cousin Harry.  
          “Uh, yeah,” agreed Vernon reluctantly but he hadn’t lifted any weights after Montague and Trevors had trapped him in the weight room and overloaded the bars.  
          “Perhaps you could ask your father for one of those weight lifting sets,” suggested Cousin Harry pensively. “Then you could practice at home. It would give you something to do with your time,” he added.  
          “It would,” agreed Vernon thoughtfully. Lifting weights might be fun to do again… especially if he didn’t have to worry about school bullies.  
          “I could talk to your dad about it if you’d like,” said Cousin Harry.  
          “Uh, no,” replied Vernon. “I’ll ask.” After all, dad was paying for Holly’s karate class, Vernon was sure he could talk dad into an exercise set for him.  
          “What about that ninja stuff?” suggested Albus suddenly.  
          “Huh?”  
          “It looked fun in that game of yours,” continued Albus. “I bet Holly would teach you whatever she’s been learning…”  
          “But I’m not into that sort of stuff,” protested Vernon.  
          “You don’t have to be,” argued Cousin Harry, “but it would be something new and different. Learning something new and different would be an excellent way to take your mind off … other things…”  
          “I suppose,” agreed Vernon reluctantly.  
          The limo slid to a gentle stop. Harry looked up and out. “I do believe we have arrived.” Vernon reached down and grabbed his garbage bag. Cousin Harry pulled out his “cell phone” and checked it carefully. Then he knocked twice on the partition window, returned the “phone” to his pocket and took out an old-fashioned looking pocket watch. “Five minutes early,” he commented calmly. “Good.” Harry looked over at Vernon’s bag. “Ah,” he began hesitantly. “I think we ought to take your things out of the garbage bag first. It’s not the usual shopping container… So with Albus’ help, Vernon hastily emptied the bag.  
          “Thanks for showing me Chessington,” said Albus as they worked.  
          “Any time,” murmured Vernon. His eyes fell on Albus’ ring—“You won’t forget will you?” Vernon asked anxiously.  
          “I won’t forget,” replied Albus solemnly. The limo door opened and the chauffeur stood smartly at attention outside. Cousin Harry got out first and then stood to one side waiting for Vernon. Vernon carefully readjusted the smaller bags in his arms and scooted to the door.  
          “Good bye, Vernon,” said Albus solemnly as he watched Vernon slide out of the limo. “It was nice to meet you.”  
          “Yes, it was,” agreed Vernon. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again someday.”  
          “I’d like that,” said Albus.  
          “Come along, Vernon,” urged Cousin Harry. “We mustn’t keep your parents waiting.”  
          “Oh, they’re usually asleep by now,” commented Vernon as he led the way up the sidewalk.  
          “Not tonight,” assured Cousin Harry.  
          “No,” agreed Vernon thoughtfully, “probably not tonight.”  
          They reached the front steps and Cousin Harry stopped, pulling Vernon to a stop with him. “Thank you for coming today,” he told Vernon sincerely. “You may not realize this but I’m sure it helped Albus a lot to have someone to talk to.” Vernon nodded. It had helped him too, but he wasn’t ready to admit that, not out loud at least. “Have a nice night,” added Cousin Harry as Vernon reached out to turn the knob.  
          “Aren’t you coming in too?” queried Vernon dropping his hand as he suddenly realized Harry meant to leave him at the doorstep.  
          “No,” replied Cousin Harry. “It’s late and I should get Albus home.”  
          “Oh. Well, good-bye and thank you, I mean for the trip.”  
          Cousin Harry nodded his head. “My pleasure,” he replied as Vernon again reached out to the doorknob. Harry glanced at his watch. “Wait a moment, please,” he told Vernon suddenly. Vernon’s hand froze, hovered over the doorknob and he looked questioningly at Cousin Harry.  
          Cousin Harry was looking at his pocket watch. “Three, two, one,” he murmured. “Now!”  
          Vernon turned the front knob and opened the door.

********************

          Both Vernon’s parents were awake and up. Mum was seated in her usual chair with some crocheting on her lap. Dad was already standing and facing his direction when Vernon entered, no doubt because dad had been pacing. Vernon recognized the pose.  
          “You’re back!” exclaimed dad and Vernon saw relief flood his face.  
          “Well, yeah,” replied Vernon trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s midnight, isn’t it? And Cousin Harry said he’d have me back by midnight, didn’t he.”  
          “Uh, yeah,” replied dad checking his watch. “He did. Um, how’d it go?” He tried to sound casual but couldn’t hide the concern in his voice.  
          “Fine,” replied Vernon not elaborating.  
          “Did you have a good time?” asked mum who had stood to greet him.  
          “Of course!” replied Vernon automatically. “I mean it _is_ Chessington. How could it go wrong?”  
          “Did you get me anything?” came Holly’s cheerful voice from her bedroom. Her head and long blonde hair poked out from the doorway.  
          “Holly!” exclaimed mum scandalized. “I told you to go to bed hours ago!”  
          “Couldn’t sleep!” she answered shamelessly. “Well! Did you get me anything?”  
          “Course!” laughed Vernon. “I didn’t dare come home without something for you. Want to see?”  
          “You can do that in the morning!” insisted mum. “It’s midnight and well past both your bedtimes! Now, off to bed both of you!”  
          “Yes, mum!” Holly and Vernon chorused together. Holly ducked back into her room closing her door and Vernon went into his bedroom to deposit his bags and get ready for bed.

********************

          The light to Vernon’s bedroom was off when Dillon Wycliff opened the door. It wasn’t dark in his room, of course; there was a small nightlight plugged turned on illuminating the room. Dillon hated that light and what it meant. He also hated the hum of the radio that Vernon left on at night but Dillon was determined to deal with that another time.  
          He walked quietly into the room, pulled out the desk chair and sat down. He stared at Vernon’s sleeping form for a while remembering earlier days with Vernon and the good times. Dillon closed his eyes shuttering as he remembered how close they had come to loosing him. Then Dillon opened his eyes again. He reached out, grabbed the radio knob and switched the radio off.  
          “Humrp, what?” Vernon immediately stirred and woke not because of the sound of the radio going off, but rather the absence of sound afterwards.  
          “It’s just me, Vernon,” reassured Dillon.  
          “Oh,” said Vernon in a sleepy voice. “What are you doing here?”  
          “I needed to talk,” replied Dillon.  
          “Oh.”  
          “Do you forgive me?” Dillon asked bluntly.  
          “Huh?” asked Vernon, his voice still fuzzy with sleep.  
          “Do you forgive me?” Dillon repeated. “I know you didn’t want to go today and I kind of forced you into it,” he added explaining. “So, do you forgive me?”  
          “Uh, yeah, dad, sure,” he replied in a voice that sounded more awake. Vernon struggled a bit in his blankets and sat up. “I didn’t want to go,” Vernon admitted, “but you were right to make me. I’m glad I went.”  
          “That’s good,” said Dillon, his whole body sort of sagged with relief. He had spent the day worrying whether he had done the right thing. “I’ll, uh— ”  
          “Dad?”  
          “Yes?”  
          “Do you think you could get me one of those home weight lifting sets? I, ah, miss working out…”  
          “Yeah, sure!” said Dillon eagerly. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk to Vernon about his weight after all… “We can do that. Why don’t you look on the Internet tomorrow and see what’s out there. Pick out some models that look promising and we’ll discuss them after dinner.”  
          Thanks,” said Vernon.  
          “Well, uh, I guess I’ll be going n—”  
          “Dad?”  
          “Yeah?”  
          “Cousin Harry says he’s never been to Chessington before. Is that true?”  
          “I don’t know what he did after he left us,” hedged Dillon. “But I don’t believe he ever went there as a boy,” Dillon cautiously confirmed, not sure what Vernon was getting at.  
          “But you used to go to Chessington when you were a boy didn’t you?”  
          “Yes,” replied Dillon while remembering some of the rides he used to enjoy.  
          “How could he have not gone along with you?” Dillon didn’t respond but felt himself tense up at Vernon’s words. “I mean you’re family!” Vernon persisted. Vernon’s question cut through Dillon like a knife bringing out all sorts of unwanted memories. He put his head in his hands.  
          “Did you ask him?” Dillon finally said not looking at Vernon. What would Harry say to a question like that? How did he remember their youth together?  
          “Yeah,” replied Vernon, “but he didn’t say. He just got all cold and distant.”  
           Dillon stared blankly at the wall at a loss for words. “That was nice of him,” Dillon finally said. Vernon waited for Dillon to continue but Dillon didn’t know what to say. How did one explain a childhood that seemed so normal at the time but perhaps wasn’t?  
           “I loved my parents very much,” began Dillon hesitantly. “Still do. And they love me. But I don’t think they loved Harry. No, I’m fairly certain they didn’t love Harry at all. They took Harry in and cared for him because he was family, but that’s about it. Harry never went anywhere with us. No,” Dillon corrected himself. “Once he came with us to the zoo and the experience was—” Dillon shuttered at the memory. “We never did that again…”  
          “Didn’t you think it weird that Harry didn’t come along?”  
          “No, not really. It’s just the way things were.”  
          “But to leave him alone like that—”  
          “Oh, Harry was never left alone,” Dillon hastened to assure Vernon. “Dad didn’t tr—uh, mum and dad always made sure Harry had a babysitter,” Dillon concluded lamely. Dillon had started to say dad didn’t trust Harry alone in the house when he suddenly realized that didn’t sound very good. To Dillon’s knowledge, despite Harry’s weirdness, Harry had never given cause for such mistrust.  
          “But why did they do that?” persisted Vernon trying to understand.  
          Dillon sighed. He wanted to get up and leave, to avoid Vernon’s questions but he couldn’t. Especially not after insisting Vernon spend the day with Harry. “Harry was different,” Dillon began searching for the right words. “And my parents didn’t like that. Of course I know now that was because he was a w-you know, but at the time Harry was just weird and embarrassing. Strange things kept on happening around Harry. Unexplainable things. Harry would swear he didn’t know how or why they happened but dad never believed him. So my parents kept Harry hidden and out of sight as much as possible. They didn’t want people to notice him or his weirdness.”  
          “What about you, dad?” questioned Vernon.  
          “Me?”  
          “Yeah. Did you think Harry was embarrassing?”  
          Dillon sighed. “I don’t know,” he reflected. “I guess so,” he amended. Vernon waited. “I loved my parents,” Dillon said finally. “So I thought like them.”  
          “So you helped hide Harry away?”  
          “No, of course not. That was dad’s thing…”  
          “But…” Vernon obviously sensed Dillon was holding back something. A long silence followed while Dillon debated in his mind what to say. It was tempting to spin some fantasy tale denying reality. Dillon was fairly certain Harry wouldn’t contradict him. But Dillon doubted Vernon would believe such a story and it didn’t seem fair to Harry, not now.  
          “But I don’t expect I was very nice to Harry,” Dillon finally confessed.  
          “Dad!” said Vernon sounding aghast.  
          “It’s not like he was nice to me, either!” said Dillon defensively.  
          “But he was your cousin!”  
          “I was a kid,” said Dillon in response. “I didn’t know any better!” It wasn’t much of an excuse but it was all he had. The silence hung heavy between them.  
          “Dad,” started Vernon again. “Are you going to hide Holly away?”  
          “What? No!” said Dillon appalled. “Holly’s family! We would never—” Dillon stopped. Harry had been family too... “I’m not my parents,” Dillon finished lamely. “I can’t excuse what happened when I was young. It seemed right at the time. But I can assure you that your mum and I love Holly very much and that hasn’t changed just because she’s a, ah, different. Not now, not ever!” Vernon seemed to settle back in his bed a bit, apparently reassured by Dillon’s words.  
          “I, uh, guess I’ll be going now,” said Dillon shifting uncomfortably. The conversation had taken unexpected turns and dredged up memories Dillon would rather have forgotten. He stood up. “You need to be getting your rest,” Dillon added as he pushed the chair back under the desk. “Good night, Vernon.”  
          “Good night, dad.” Dillon stepped over to the door. He reached his hand out to turn the knob.  
          “It’s the seat belts!” blurted Vernon suddenly.  
          “Huh?”  
          “The seat belts! I can’t bear,” Vernon began but stopped. Vernon tried again, “I don’t want—” Vernon broke off again. This was obviously very difficult for him. “I can’t,” he tried again. “The straps! I don’t like them on me!”  
          Dillon returned to the chair and sat down. “Yeah,” he said heavily. “I figured it was something like that.”  
          “You did?” Dillon could hear the surprise in Vernon’s voice.  
          “Yeah,” replied Dillon. “I knew you liked Chessington and you’ve no reason to hate Harry. So it had to be something else that made you refuse… What did Harry say to you anyway?” Dillon asked curiously. Dillon had warned Harry he didn’t think Vernon would go—certain Vernon would back out no matter what the consequence. Harry had insisted he try anyway.  
          “Limos don’t have seat belts,” replied Vernon softly. “Dad,” he added anxiously, “I don’t think— I can’t— I don’t know how—,” Vernon floundered for the words. “I don’t think I can make the trip to Smeltings…” he finished apologetically.  
          “Don’t worry, son,” Dillon told Vernon. “We’ll think of something…”


	8. Chapter 8

          Holly turned the page of the book. Sasha lay stretched out on her back next to Holly. Holly absently rubbed Sasha’s belly while she glanced up at the clock. She noted the time and turned another page of the book while continuing to rub Sasha. Holly turned another page then looked at the clock again, sighed and closed the book. She wasn’t really reading anyway. The words seemed to go through one eye and out the other without sticking in her brain. Holly looked at the clock again and continued to rub Sasha. Sasha purred contentedly under Holly’s hand. Five more minutes. It seemed like an eternity. Five more minutes, not one minute sooner, and then Cousin Harry would arrive to take her to London. He was very punctual.  
          Holly had been waiting a long time for this day—ever since the hospital, since what happened at the tree! It wasn’t because she was eager to see her friends at Hogwarts, though it would be good to see them, it was because she needed to talk with Cousin Harry, to have him listen and help her make sense of what had happened.  
          Mum would have been a sympathetic ear, but that wasn’t what Holly needed. She needed someone who knew and perhaps understood the people, places and things she had seen. Mum just couldn’t do that.  
          Holly had wanted to talk to Cousin Harry in the hospital, right after her return but it hadn’t been possible. Dad was too stressed being in a wizard hospital and Holly had felt it would be pushing it to try to stay longer. Holly didn’t ask to talk with Cousin Harry after they got back home because she was afraid if she spent too much time with Cousin Harry, or if dad found out what really happened at the tree he might change his mind about letting her go back to Hogwarts. Her fears could have been groundless though; dad seemed truly sincere about saying she could return, but Holly wasn’t willing to risk it.  
          So, to keep herself from dwelling on what had happened, Holly practiced her karate until she was too exhausted to stand, played the piano until her fingers and wrists were too shaky to strike the keys properly and marked off the calendar days—one at a time. “One more day!” Holly kept telling herself though she felt as if she would burst. “I can hold on for one more day.” And somehow she managed to make it through the rest of the summer--one day at a time.  
          Dad had gotten much better after he had “stayed late working” one night. The overwhelming guilt that radiated out of him had diminished considerably and he again walked with confidence and self-assurance.  
          After that, mum was much happier too. She had brooded before, filled with ceaseless worry. Afterwards, there was still the worry, but not as much and only when she looked at Vernon and Holly—mostly Vernon though. Holly wasn’t sure what had happened to change dad’s emotions so drastically but she knew dad hadn’t stayed late working that night; that was just the lie mum had told.  
          Then the letter came from Cousin Harry for Vernon… The way dad jumped on it and insisted Vernon go with Harry made Holly think Cousin Harry and dad had planned the trip together. It made sense. Cousin Harry could talk to dad in ways no one else could. Holly envied Vernon and his chance to be alone with Harry.  
          Four more minutes. Holly watched the second hand slowly spin around. Three, two… Holly was jumping off her bed in eager anticipation as the doorbell rang. Holly flung open her door and raced out of her room nearly crashing into Vernon in the process. Vernon had been rather anxious the last week or so. Holly couldn’t figure out why but seeing him now she realized that Vernon had been waiting for Cousin Harry too. Vernon’s muddle of emotions had calmed down considerably after his trip to Chessington. Holly knew Vernon was feeling much better about himself when she heard him laugh upon his return. He hadn’t laughed like that since before the tree…  
           Holly figured Vernon and Harry would discuss what had happened in the room and she was certain two days later. “How long was I in there?” Vernon asked Holly point blank once he had her cornered somewhere in private…  
          Holly gulped. “Th—three days,” she finally confessed not looking at him.  
          “Three days!” Vernon exploded. “I was stuck in that lousy room for three _whole_ days and you let me walk around thinking it was only a couple hours! How could you?!!!”  
          “I’m s-sorry,” Holly blubbered.  
          “You should be!” Vernon scolded. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to walk around thinking what a _wuss_ you are because you can’t handle a couple of hours of darkness without food and water when I should have been thinking about how lucky I was to even be alive? I looked it up,” he told Holly sternly. “People start to _die_ after three days!!!” Vernon stopped for a breath giving time to drive his point home. Then he added, “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
          “I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Holly began defensively. “And mum and dad,” she continued. “I couldn’t disagree with them…”  
          “Course you could have!” he told her scornfully. “It’s not like they know everything! I’m your brother!” he reminded her sternly. “You should have told me!”  
          “I’m sorry,” Holly repeated helplessly with tears streaming down her eyes. “I didn’t realize…”  
          “You should have!” Vernon retorted angrily. “You’re supposed to be an Empath, remember? You should have realized what the lie was doing to me!”  
          “B-but you b-believed mum and dad… You wanted to! I, I didn’t want you to be more upset than you already w-were…” Suddenly Holly slumped. “Y-you’re right,” she said abruptly. “I should have told you the truth. Tried to make you believe…”  
          “Darned right you should have!” Vernon said righteously. “You owe me!”  
          Holly gulped and nodded. “W-what can I do?”  
          “You serious?”  
          “Y-yes,” Holly sniffed.  
          “Then teach me that karate stuff!”  
          “What? But I’m not supposed to give lessons…”  
          “You owe me!” Vernon reminded her relentlessly. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna tell anybody! It’s just something for me to do to keep me from eating so much…”  
          “O.K.” agreed Holly reluctantly. “When do you want to start?”  
          “No time like the present,” replied Vernon relaxing. “I’ve already got my sweats on!”  
          “You rat!” exclaimed Holly suddenly while taking a half-hearted swing at Vernon, which he easily dodged. “You told mum you wanted those sweats to wear when you are lifting weights!”  
          “And that’s how I plan to use them when the equipment comes,” replied Vernon as he headed down the hall. “That’s not to say I can’t use them for other things as well!”  
          “You already knew about the three days!” accused Holly.  
          “Yeah, well, not for sure,” replied Vernon. “They were just guessing.”  
          “So why put me through the wringer like that?”  
          “Nothing like a bit of leverage,” came the smug reply. “I heard you mention only a Master can teach the stuff…”  
          “Oh,” said Holly thoughtfully. “Well, like you said, they don’t have to know…” She followed Vernon outside. “I really am sorry,” repeated Holly as the two walked out to the lawn “I should have told you…”  
          “You did, sort of,” replied Vernon matter-of-factly. “That roast beef story of yours would have taken longer than two hours to happen,” he explained. “I just never connected it with me in the chair at the same time…”  
          “Do you forgive me?” Holly asked anxiously as the two sat down on the lawn to do warm-ups. Fortunately, Vernon had been watching her practice daily so he was already familiar with the routine.  
          “Course,” Vernon replied promptly. “You’re my sister!” he added as if that explained everything. Holly went through several simple warm-up exercises with Vernon and then showed him the moves of the first form of Tang Soo Do.

 *********************

           “So what happened after I went into that room?” asked Vernon when they finally sat down for a break.  
          “Um...” Holly didn’t want to answer, but she owned Vernon an explanation of some sort, at least an abbreviated one. “You and mum disappeared and everything changed,” she finally said in a low voice. “It was the same, but not the same. I heard what you said before—before things happened—the names. They were the same names as before so I knew what must have happened and where you were. But the only way I knew to break the curse was to go to the trophy room in Hogwarts.”  
          “Hogwarts?” questioned Vernon after taking a sip of water. “Isn’t Hogwarts someplace up north?”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Holly taking a sip of water too. “ _Way_ up north.”  
          Impressed, Vernon whistled softly. “Weren’t you scared to travel all that way alone?”  
          “Terrified,” came the answer. “I didn’t even know where Hogwarts was, but I had to try. You weren't going to make it otherwise.”  
          “So how’d you do it?”  
          “I walked a lot.”             
          “And got captured… And escaped…” contributed Vernon remembering her earlier story.  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly. “That got me to Aylesbury,”  
          “And then?”  
          "Then Ra—someone gave me money for the train to London.”  
          “That was nice of him.”  
          “Yeah,” said Holly softly remembering Ravindra’s sorrowful brown eyes.  
          “Then?”  
          “Well, in London, Krea—I got a lift to Hogwarts.”  
          “That was lucky.”  
          “It was,” agreed Holly lost in thought. “That was day three and I knew I was running out of time!” she murmured.  
          “Then it was a hop, skip and a jump to the trophy room?”  
          “Yeah, sort of,” agreed Holly not wanting to go into details. “Let’s start again,” she directed while standing up. Talking about her experience, even a little bit, was harder than she expected. Holly knew practicing her forms would help her take her mind off of other things…

 *********************

          “I met Albus,” Vernon told Holly while they were stretching out before practice the next day.  
          “Did you?” inquired Holly as she reached down to touch her toes. It made sense; who better to talk with Vernon about that room than Albus.  
          “Yeah,” replied Vernon. “We went on the rides together.”  
          There was a swift spike of some sort in the emotions when Vernon mentioned the word “rides,” but Vernon wasn’t really upset so Holly didn’t probe further.  
          “I met somebody named Rupert too,” added Vernon. “He said to say “hello.”  
          “That’s nice,” replied Holly.  
          “Yeah. He drove us around in this battered old taxi!” added Vernon shuttering. “He drives like a maniac! Rupert says he learned to drive from his dad. I hate to think how his dad drives!”  
          “Mmm,” said Holly thoughtfully. “How was the limo?” she asked curiously.  
          “That was sweet!” replied Vernon eagerly. “I scarcely knew we were moving.”  
          “Rupert’s dad was the chauffeur.”  
          “Oh,” Vernon gulped. “Good thing I never said anything.”  
          “That’s O.K.,” Holly replied. “Cousin Harry says Stan—Rupert’s dad has never had an accident but between you and me, I think he drives like a maniac too.”  
          Vernon laughed.  
          “Wait a minute!” said Holly straightening up suddenly. “Why were you driving around with Rupert in the taxi?”  
          “We were trying to dodge some lady named Rita,” replied Vernon. His arms reached down to touch his toes and managed to touch his legs somewhere below his knees. He wasn’t too good at the stretching exercises.  
          “Rita Skeeter?” asked Holly with interest. “The reporter? What was she doing there?”  
          “Following Cousin Harry around,” replied Vernon. And Vernon proceeded to tell Holly what he had learned about Rita’s efforts to locate them.  
          “I had no idea,” mused Holly. “If she wants to talk with us that bad, why doesn’t she just look us up in the directory like other people?”  
          Vernon shrugged. “Maybe wizards didn’t know about directories. What would you do if she called?” he asked curiously.  
          “Tell her to “go away!” replied Holly promptly. “I’ve read some of Rita’s stuff. Her articles aren’t very nice and she tends to sensationalize big time—you know “Muggle Family Terrorized by Cursed Tree!” Holly laughed as she pretended to write the headlines in the air overhead.  
          Vernon laughed with her and then added seriously, “That’s not far from the truth, though.”  
          “Huh?”             
          “That whole tree collapsed on top of us after we got out! I thought we were goners for sure!”  
          “But you weren’t hurt?”  
          “Not a scratch!”  
          “That’s good. I, uh, don’t remember anything about the rescue,” Holly said softly.  
          “Well, duhhhh!” replied Vernon easily. “You were unconscious at the time!”  
          “What happened? The last thing I remember is walking with you to the wall…”    
          “The ceiling fell on top of us!” Vernon replied promptly. “The light went out and I remember thinking that at least I wasn’t alone this time…”  
          “Oh.” Holly shuttered. “That’s awful.”  
          “I don’t know how long we were like that when I realized there was a new light overhead,” continued Vernon. “I thought the ceiling must have fallen in the rest of the way. That or I had died and was having one final huge hallucination complete with voices and angels.  
          Then I heard this voice shout, “They’re alive!” and I realized help had arrived. That shout was when I knew for sure you were still alive,” Vernon added looking directly at Holly. “I hoped you were still breathing, but I wasn’t sure; you hadn’t moved a bit after the ceiling fell. After that I somehow got lifted up to that hole in the ceiling; they pulled me out and I saw mum and dad!”  
          “Then you were set down besides me,” continued Vernon. “You didn’t look too good,” he added softly. “There was blood everywhere. And after that the tree fell.” Vernon looked up into the tree overhead studying its sturdy branches.  
          “I have something for you,” he said suddenly. “Wait here!”  
          He got up and headed for the house. Holly shifted her legs into a more comfortable sitting position and proceeded to stretch out her arms and neck.  
          Vernon entered his bedroom. Lifting up his mattress he reached into a rip he had placed in the fabric of the box springs. He pulled out several bags of chips he had stashed there and tossed them on the floor besides him. Vernon dug further in the back, behind the chips. Finally his groping fingers touched something long and thin. He grabbed it and pulled it out.  
          Wiping it off carefully with his shirt, Vernon brought the object with him outside.  
          “My wand!” said Holly with genuine delight when she saw what Vernon held in his hand! “How’d you get my wand?”  
          “I, uh, picked it up in the room after you dropped it,” he said as Holly stood to meet him. “It kind of landed on me. I thought I could maybe use it to get out or something…” Vernon handed the wand to Holly who immediately stroked it lovingly. “It didn’t work though,” Vernon added with a rather guilty look on his face.    
          Holly looked up at him. “Oh, Vernon,” she exclaimed with tears brimming from her eyes. “At least you tried!”  
          “I’m not sure why I hung onto it,” he added shuffling uncomfortably.  
          “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
          Vernon shrugged. “The time didn’t seem right,” he told her. “You, ah, weren’t talking much about what happened either…”  
          “No, I wasn’t,” agreed Holly softly. “I guess I didn’t want to remember that day either.”  
          “So that’s what dad was talking about last year!” Vernon said suddenly as he watched Holly pull some sort of a belt from under her shirt. Last year dad had threatened to remove it and its contents if Holly didn’t let up about going back to Hogwarts. Holly had kept quiet after that threat but somehow managed to go back to Hogwarts anyway.  
          “Yeah,” agreed Holly as she slid the wand into a slit in the belt.  
          “And you’ve been carrying that empty belt around all this time?” asked Vernon in disbelief as she pushed the belt and wand to under her clothes.  
          “It wasn’t empty,” replied Holly patting the wand in place. “It was filled with memories! But the wand is ever so much better. That wand means a lot to me,” she told Vernon. “I thought I’d lost it forever. Thank you so much for saving it!” She reached out and gave Vernon a warm hug.  
          “Yeah, well, it wasn’t much of a wand for me,” began Vernon shuffling uncomfortably inside her grasp. He reluctantly gave her a half-hearted hug back. After all, she was a girl and his sister and he didn’t do stuff like that any more… “But it worked pretty good as an ankle scratcher…”  
          Holly looked up at Vernon. “A what?” she laughed.  
          “My leg itched,” he explained shamefacedly. “And I couldn’t reach it the way we were trapped under the stones. So I stuck the wand down my leg and in my sock to get at it… I never took it out and kind of forgot about it when I realized we might get rescued…”  
          Holly laughed again. “I guess that’s as good a use as any for it,” she told him seriously. “And a sock sounds like an excellent storage place. Thank you again for saving it. And now,” she added briskly, “as long as we’re both up, we might as well get to work. Ready to learn the moves to the next form?”

*********************

           "Holly?" came Vernon's voice from his room later that night. "What do I do with all these?" Instead of putting his chips back away, Vernon had pulled the rest of them out and piled them on his bed. Vernon had managed to quit eating chips cold turkey mostly by keeping busy and when that didn't work by counting the minutes until the next meal and reminding himself he could stand longer, if necessary.  
          "That's a lot of chips," said Holly solemnly as she stared at the mound of bags on Vernon's bed. Sasha had come in behind Holly and was examining the pile with interest. "When did you get all these?" Holly asked impressed by the size of the pile.  
          "Before Chessington," replied Vernon shortly while staring at the pile with Holly. "There's more in the garage," he informed her.  "What'll I do with them?" he moaned. "I haven't touched them, but every night when I go to bed I know they're there…"  
          Sasha jumped lightly onto the bed and began to happily burrow beneath the bags causing them to topple everywhere. "Sasha, no!" scolded Holly as she scooped the cat off the bed. "I could bundle them all up and give them to mum," Holly suggested. "She could take them all and donate them to Red Cross or something…"  
          "But," said Vernon hesitantly. He didn't want them around, but on the other hand they represented a sizable investment of his hard earned money…  
          "It's for a good cause," added Holly persuasively.  
          "I'm not so sure about that,” replied Vernon glumly.  
          Holly reached out and rummaged through the pile. She pulled out a large bag of "Extra Cheezy Chips and placed it on his desk. "For emergencies," Holly told him and began to gather up the rest…  
          Later, mum handed Vernon a list of fairly easy chores he could do for pay to help him replenish his savings.         

********************

          “What’s a thestral?” asked Vernon during another break. The weights had arrived special delivery and dad spent an evening putting the equipment together. Vernon worked out diligently with the weights while Holly took lessons at the dojo. But when Holly returned, she insisted Vernon practice with her until dinner…  
          Holly hesitated before answering; it was the kind of stuff she didn’t usually talk about. “They’re invisible,” she finally told Vernon. “Only certain people can see them.”  
          “Like what kind?” persisted Vernon.  
          “Like the kind who have seen death,” Holly answered in a low voice.  
          “Albus says he can see them.”  
          “Albus saw a basilisk bite down on Cousin Harry,” whispered Holly. Vernon remembered that part with the snake just before the lights went out again.  
          “So I guess he “saw death,” agreed Vernon though he still had a hard time believing he had been looking into the past. “Why do they think he’s crazy?”  
          “Albus said that?”  
          “Yeah.”  
          “Albus saw Cousin Harry die, but he isn’t dead!” reminded Holly.  
          “Oh,” said Vernon thoughtfully. “I guess that is a little weird. So, why doesn’t he explain?”  
          Holly remained silent tearing off pieces of grass at random and shredding them with her fingers. “Would _you_ believe him?” she finally asked.  
          “Well, yeah, of course!” he exclaimed. “Especially when you think of what all else happened in that r—” Vernon broke off. “Albus isn’t going to tell anyone what happened in that room is he?” Vernon asked answering his own question in the process. Vernon knew how much he didn’t want to talk about his own experiences in that room and he knew Albus was the same. “It’s too personal,” Vernon added.  
          “Yeah,” confirmed Holly tossing the rest of the grass she held in the air. “Way too personal. Albus’ close friends and family know he can see thestrals and why. And as for the others, well, he lets them think and say what they will. It’s a pretty wild story, even for wizards,” Holly continued with a sigh. “There’s no guarantee Albus would be believed no matter what he said. Some of the students at school maintain Albus pretended to see the thestrals just for the attention. They would consider any story Albus told to justify what he says he sees as creative fantasy. ”  
          “That’s too bad,” concluded Vernon. “He seems like a nice kid.”  
          “He is,” agreed Holly.

 ********************

          “Hello, Mrs. Wycliff.” Holly heard Cousin Harry say in his familiar calm voice. “Is Holly ready?”  
          “I believe so,” replied mum politely. “Let me check. Holl—”  
          “Right here!” said Holly breathlessly coming to a stop besides mum. Vernon skidded in behind her.  
          Cousin Harry’s eyes lit up. “Ah, Vernon,” he said warmly. “You’re looking good.” And Vernon did look good having lost several pounds since Chessington.  
          “Thank you,” replied Vernon as dad walked up to join the group. Vernon was both anxious and eager. Something was up between Vernon and Cousin Harry but Holly didn’t know what.  
          “I believe you left something behind from your trip to Chessington,” said Cousin Harry calmly while reaching into his pocket. “Albus found it among his things,” he added. Cousin Harry’s expression was totally bland but Vernon’s excitement and anticipation rose immediately at Harry’s words. This, then, was what Vernon was waiting for… Holly watched with interest.  
          “What is it?” asked dad curiously.  
          “It’s a ring!” said Vernon excitedly. He opened the box, removed a silver ring and held it out. Almost as suddenly, Vernon’s emotions deflated; the eager anticipation was replaced with intense disappointment.  
          “Let me see it,” said dad unaware of Vernon’s wild mood swings. Vernon dejectedly dropped the ring in dad’s hand for his examination. “Nice,” said dad unimpressed. He wasn’t a ring person. He passed it on to mum.  
          “More than nice,” said mum holding the ring up to the light. She had more appreciation of jewelry. “You had it inscribed too!” mum said with surprise as she looked at the inside. “How much did it cost?” she asked.  
          “Not much,” muttered Vernon miserably. “There was no charge for the inscription,” he added. Holly could tell the first part was a definite lie and the second the truth. But before she could decide what to do about it, Holly realized that Cousin Harry was speaking to her!  
          “What?” she said surprised. “What were you saying?”  
          “I said I believe you had a birthday a while back,” repeated Cousin Harry patiently. “I’ve been terribly remiss for failing to acknowledge it.”  
          “That’s O.K.,” said Holly quickly. She didn’t expect anything from Cousin Harry anyway.  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Cousin Harry easily, “but I have something for you anyway.” He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Holly. Her name, Miss Holly Wycliff, was written in purple ink on the outside. Holly turned the envelope over, broke the purple seal on the back and unfolded the flap.  
          “I hope you like it,” he said as Holly broke the purple seal on the back and unfolded the flap. “Lily picked it out,” he added as she pulled out the card within. It looked like a standard greeting card found at any stationary store. The front had a picture with three cute cuddly kittens. “She said you liked cats…” Cousin Harry continued.  
          “I do,” agreed Holly while opening the card. It contained a standard greeting rhyme with Cousin Harry’s signature beneath. But Holly scarcely saw that. What drew her attention was the very large thick purple writing scrawled over the inside of the card. It said: _“Vernon’s ring needs to be activated like a Healthstone!!!”_ Then the words vanished from the page.  
          Holly looked up at Cousin Harry in shock. “Happy birthday,” he told her solemnly meeting her gaze with his green eyes. On the surface, Harry hadn’t asked her to do anything, but Holly still knew what needed to be done.  
          “Uh, thank you,” she replied taking care that her face betrayed no expression. Then she returned the card to the envelope. “Want to see?” she asked handing the card to her dad. “Thank you very much,” she repeated to Cousin Harry. “Uh, Vernon,” she began, “can I see that ring of yours?”  
           “Yeah, sure,” said Vernon glumly. He handed the ring to Holly. “It’s too dark here,” insisted Holly scarcely looking at the ring. “I’ll see it better under the light.” She grabbed Vernon’s wrist with her free hand, dragged him over to mum’s favorite chair with her.   Then Holly turned on the light.  
          “What??” began Vernon trying to break free of her grasp.  
          “Shhh!” hissed Holly as she turned on the lamp. The blue and green afghan mum was currently crocheting was folded and placed neatly on Mum’s favorite rocking chair. Within the drawer in the end table under the lamp were some sewing supplies mum used for mending.  
          In the background Holly heard Cousin Harry speaking. “Do you have any good recipes for cake, Mrs. Wycliff?” he asked. “Ginny’s of a mind to try baking a cake now.”  
          “What kind of cake?” asked mum her attention focused on Cousin Harry. Holly pulled open the drawer and ignored the conversation in background begun by Cousin Harry. It was obviously intended as a distraction.  
          “I don’t really know,” said Cousin Harry. “Dillon?” he added. “You were always a good judge of … sweets. What kind of cake would you recommend?”  
          “I, uh, don’t know,” replied dad. His attention was now on Cousin Harry too. “Chocolate?”  
          “Hold this!” Holly hissed to Vernon handing him back his ring.  
          “What are you doing?” demanded Vernon in a whisper.  
          “Shhh!” Holly insisted ignoring Vernon’s confusion. She hung onto Vernon’s wrist with one hand and quickly sorted through the sewing supplies pulling out the pincushion.  
          “What do you think you’re doing?” whispered Vernon anxiously as Holly drew out a needle from the pincushion.  
          “Helping you!” replied Holly with urgency. “Now, be quiet!” she ordered. Holly swiftly slid her hand down Vernon’s wrist and grabbed a finger. Taking a deep breath, she aimed her needle and then stabbed Vernon’s finger with it.  
          “Ow!” came Vernon’s surprised voice.  
          “Shhh!” hissed Holly. She turned and looked anxiously at her parents. Had they heard?  
          “Chocolate sounds marvelous,” came Cousin Harry’s voice a little louder than before. “Do you have a recipe Ginny could try?”  
          “Yes, of course,” replied mum. She and dad didn’t seem to have noticed the noise Vernon had made. “I’ll go fetch it!” mum added.  
          “Your ring!” Holly hissed to Vernon while returning the needle to the pincushion. She held out her hand impatiently. Vernon dropped the ring into Holly’s waiting hand. Holly stared at the ring looking at it closely for the first time. _“Probably the blue stone,"_ she decided, _“or maybe not…”_  
          “What about frosting?” called out Harry loudly. His tall body moved a bit to the side blocking Holly and Vernon from dad’s view.  
          “What are you doing?” Vernon whispered again as Holly squeezed his finger so the blood welled up.  
          “Activating it!” replied Holly tersely as she jammed the ring against Vernon’s finger making sure some of the blood touched the stone and some touched the silver of the ring.  
          “What th—” The blood seemed to stain the silver black. Suddenly the earlier confusion and disappointment emanating from Vernon vanished, replaced by excitement!  
          “There!” whispered Holly. “Now it’ll do whatever it’s supposed to do—but only for you!”  
          “Thanks, sis!” whispered Vernon happily. “You’re the best!” He impulsively gave her a hug. “Have a great time at school!”  
          “You too,” whispered Holly hugging him back. She returned her attention to her parents and Cousin Harry.  
          Cousin Harry was in the process of carefully folding a piece of paper, presumably a recipe.  
          “That’s sure a nice ring,” said Holly loudly walking back to the group. Cousin Harry’s green eyes caught hers and she tipped her head in a nod. He nodded back with the slightest incline of his head.  
          “Thank you,” Cousin Harry said to mum as he placed the folded paper in his pocket.  
          “Glad you like it,” replied Vernon to Holly while slipping the ring on his first finger. He held it up proudly for display. Mum and dad looked at the ring with only mild interest having already seen it up close.  
          “Speaking of cakes,” said mum moving over to the entryway. “I have a cake for you! And another one for your friends—the ones we met a, uh, this summer…” Holly remembered all that cooking mum had been dong the last few days. Now she knew why. Mum bent down and picked up two boxes in the entry, one stacked on top of the other, each tied separately with string. “We weren’t able to properly thank them earlier for all they did for us.” she added.  
          “That isn’t necessary,” replied Cousin Harry. “They were happy to help out.”  
          “Still,” continued mum, “I’d appreciate it if you’d give them this from us…” and she nodded to the second box, the one on the bottom.  
          “If you insist,” said Cousin Harry taking both boxes. “I know they will enjoy it. Your excellent cooking has been gaining quite a reputation…” Mum flushed with pleasure at his compliment.  
          “Holly,” Cousin Harry added turning his attention her way. “If you’re ready, I expect we should be leaving.”  
          “I’m ready,” assured Holly eagerly. Her bags—stuffed with mostly clothing, were also in the entryway waiting to be moved to the car.

********************

          Dillon Wycliff moved forward, grabbed Holly’s trunk and eased it out the front door. Harry grabbed her other bag and followed. The two got Holly’s bags stowed in the car. Holly sat in the back seat and Sasha leaped lightly onto her lap. Holly set Sasha’s carry-on bag, one of Laurel’s old purses, on the floor next to her feet. She wouldn’t use it until they got to the station.  
          Then Dillon walked over to the driver’s side of the car and opened the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry do the same on his side. Suddenly Dillon felt the most horrible lurch in his stomach and his mind flashed on the last time Harry had been in his car…  
          “No!” he exclaimed. The words were out of his mouth almost without thought.  
          “What?” asked Harry looking up frozen in place with the car door partially opened.  
          “No offense, Harry,” began Dillon hesitantly trying to explain. “Part of me knows you probably wouldn’t… But I don’t—I, uh, it’s a new car, Harry! I can’t—” Dillon stopped unable to put his feelings into words.  
          “Perhaps I should meet you at the station,” said Harry straightening. He looked steadily at Dillon with his green eyes as he spoke.  
          “Yeah!” said Dillon unable to hide his relief. “Would you?” Dillon was glad he didn’t have to explain further.  
          “Certainly,” came the calm response. Harry closed the car door and backed away.  
          “But how will you, uh, get there?” asked Dillon feeling suddenly guilty.  
          “I can call a cab,” replied Harry easily. “Don’t worry about me,” he added and started down the sidewalk.

 


	9. Chapter 9

          Dillon Wycliff stared at Harry’s receding figure while filled with a mixture of guilt and relief. He looked at Laurel and Vernon standing in the doorway and wondered what they thought seeing Harry walk off like that. What would he tell them? Perhaps he should call Harry back… But no, Dillon just couldn’t bring himself to do that… He’d deal with Laurel and Vernon later when he got home. Maybe they’d forget by then… Dillon slid into the car and strapped in.  
          "Look baby," Dillon began uncertainly, "I’m sorry, I know you like him but—"  
          "It's O.K., Daddy," interrupted Holly soothingly. "I know you're upset. He wasn't," she added thoughtfully. "I don't know why, though," she mused.  
          "Well," said Dillon gruffly he started the engine, "let's keep it that way." He eased the car out of the driveway. Dillon was relieved that Harry hadn't taken offense and he hoped Holly wouldn’t take offense either. "Don't ask questions," he added. He wasn’t up to explaining anything at the moment.  
          "Yes, sir," came the soft voice in back.  
          Dillon breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded the corner and continued on towards the station. He wanted no one to know what had happened in the car between Harry and himself or what he had almost done… "Ah, are you looking forward to going back to school?" Dillon asked seeking to change the subject.  
          "I guess so, yes, sir," came Holly's reply. "It'll be good to see my friends again."  
          Friends! Yes, that was a safe topic. "What are your friends like?" asked Dillon.  
          "Nice," said Holly vaguely. "Really nice."  
          "Tell me about them."  
          "Well, there's Becky, you know about her," began Holly. "She's my best friend. And then there's Mark and Susan," continued Holly. "They're in my same class. And I suppose Lynette…"  
          "Lynette?"  
          "Yes. She is Susan's little sister and I tutor her."  
          "Tutor? You tutor?"  
          "Yes," came the reply. "We all tutor someone younger than us. That way we make sure everyone passes their classes."  
          "You have a tutor too?"  
          "Yes, daddy, I did," said Holly. "His name was Roland…" her voice took on a dreamy quality.  
          "A boy, eh?" said Dillon his fatherly instincts instantly alert. "What sort of a boy?"  
          "He was real nice and –" Holly's voice trailed off.  
          "And what?" asked Dillon.  
          "And--"  
          "And what?" insisted Dillon. But Holly didn't reply. "Holly?" asked Dillon glancing casually in the rear view mirror at her. Holly unblinking eyes were fixed blankly forward with an expression of terror on her face! Dillon immediately slammed on the breaks! Then, remembering he was in the middle of the road, Dillon reapplied the gas, sought out a curb and pulled the car to a stop.  
          "Holly?" questioned Dillon when it was safe to look back at her. "Holly, baby? Are you O.K.?" It was clear she was not. Holly sat stiffly erect; her white hands gripped the carrying case tightly. Sasha paced anxiously back and forth on Holly's lap unnoticed. Dillon didn't know what to do. "Holly?" he asked again. "Speak to me!" Holly gave a low moan; her knees curled up under her arms and she hugged them tightly all the while still clutching her bag and still staring ahead with that look of terror on her face. "Holly?"  
          "Speak to me," Holly whispered.  
          "Speak to you? About what?" But there was no reply. Dillon didn't know what else to do so he began to speak about anything and everything. He talked about when Holly was a baby, when she took her first steps, meeting Laurel for the first time, their wedding, Vernon's birth…  
          Slowly the terror melted from her face. Gradually, Holly's stiff form seemed to relax. Dillon continued to talk: about selecting and moving into their house, birthdays, vacations, holidays…  
          Suddenly, Holly gave a deep sigh and looked up at Dillon. There was awareness in her eyes again. "Thank you," she said softly. Her legs uncurled and she relaxed her tight hold on the bag and absently stroked Sasha as she spoke.  
          "What happened?" asked Dillon relieved that Holly again seemed relatively normal.  
          "I," she began hesitantly, "I was remembering."  
          "Remembering what?" demanded Dillon.  
          Holly shivered and shook her head. "Just remembering," she answered. "It was no big deal."  
          "No big deal!" exclaimed Dillon. "That wasn't like any "remembering" I have ever seen! Have you any idea how much you scared me?" Holly mutely shook her head. It was just the tiniest of motion from side to side. "Well you did!" continued Dillon. "And you say it's no big deal? So it's happened before?"  
          "A few times…" Holly whispered as she nodded.  
          "A few?" he questioned. "How many times?" But Holly didn't answer. Instead, she looked down and picked nervously at the fabric of her shirt--a sure sign that there was more Holly didn't want to tell… Dillon took a deep breath and broke the question down into smaller portions--insisting on an answer. "How many times a week?" he questioned patiently. "Once, twice, more, less? Answer me!" he demanded while fixing his gaze on Holly's face. Holly continued to pick nervously at her clothing without replying. "Holly, baby," began Dillon again. "We're not going anywhere until I get some answers!"  
          "Two, maybe three times a week?" came a very tiny hesitant voice. The sound was muffled because she spoke into her shirt.  
          "That often?" thundered Dillon. "That is more than "a few times!" Dillon declared. "Does your mum know?" Laurel spent much more time with the children. She would have surely noticed something like this.  
          "No," came the very soft reply.  
          "I find that hard to believe!" growled Dillon. Though in truth, he was sure had Laurel known she would have mentioned it to him.  
          "It ha-hasn't been as strong before,” quavered Holly. "Usually it's only for a moment or two and then everything's back to normal…"  
          "And this last time?"  
          "I knew I was remembering but I just couldn't shake it off--not like I've done in the past. It helped to have you talk about ordinary things…"  
          "Holly, baby, why haven't you said anything?"  
          "It's nothing, really."  
          "Well, I disagree! What I saw wasn't "nothing" and it wasn't normal either! You totally froze up, Holly," Dillon added thinking Holly perhaps didn't know what she looked like while "remembering." Holly sat silently in her seat, picked at the threads in her shirt and looked extremely uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Holly," Dillon decided out loud. "I know I promised you could go back to _that school_ but you shouldn't be going anywhere until this "remembering" of yours gets figured out!"  
          "Daddy!" exclaimed Holly looking up in dismay.  
          "Seriously!" replied Dillon firmly. "You need to be looked at by a professional first! I can't send you to any school without knowing what's going on and what's happening about it. What if you "remembered" while you were at school? What if you froze during class? What then?"  
          Holly shrugged her shoulders. "I'll manage," she whispered looking down again but not before Dillon saw the tears welling in her eyes. "Besides, it's only happened when I'm in a car and there are no cars at school so it may not happen at all…"  
          "That's not good enough!" said Dillon decisively. "I'm your dad!" he added. " I can't send you to school with an unknown ailment. And I certainly can't dump the responsibility of your recovery on Harry! That isn't right! Your _our_ daughter not his!"  
          "Please, daddy," began Holly in a low voice that trembled with emotion. Her hands tugged violently at her shirt. "I _need_ to go to Hogwarts--"  
          "Why?"  
          "Because, because," Holly stopped as she searched for her answer. "Because I've got to see what's there!" Her hands trembled as she pulled fiercely at her shirt. The cat rubbed herself anxiously on Holly's legs while she spoke.  
          "You already know what's there, Holly," replied Dillon.  
          "I know what was there," began Holly her trembling voice barely above a whisper, "what's supposed to be there and what could be there. But I don't know what's actually there--not any more! And I need to know for sure. I won't rest easy until I know. Let me go to Hogwarts, daddy--if only for a day! Please! I'm begging you!"  
          Dillon stared at the huddled form in the back seat that was his daughter. This was no childish demand of last year. She was too pale, too serious. He put the car into gear and eased the vehicle back onto the road. "Just because we're headed towards the station doesn't mean I've decided to let you go anywhere," he told Holly as he drove. "Harry's waiting for us and he'll worry if we don't show." They made the rest of the drive to the station in silence while Dillon considered what should be done next.

  ********************

          Dillon drove up to the station and stopped his car in the loading/unloading zone. "You stay here," he told Holly as he unstrapped himself and opened the car door. Dillon got out of the car and looked around. He recognized the slim form of Harry moving towards him from one of the station walls. Harry closed and slipped a cell phone into his pocket as he walked coming to a stop in front of Dillon.  
          Dillon took a step forward so he and Harry were very close: face-to-face, eye-to-eye. "Do you swear to take care of my baby as if she were one of your own?" began Dillon without any preamble. Harry's green eyes blinked in surprise at the question. "Not just family," Dillon suddenly added remembering how his parents had treated Harry, "but one of your own flesh and blood?"  
          "Yes, of course," replied Harry promptly and he waited for Dillon to explain himself further.  
          Dillon stared hard at Harry trying to judge the sincerity of Harry's words. Finally he nodded in acceptance. "Well," began Dillon, "here's the thing: Something's not right with Holly, something serious!" Dillon looked over at Holly. Harry's gaze followed. Holly was sitting silently in the car, head down, her blonde hair covering her face. "And I'm not sure she should be going to _that school_ of yours or any school for that matter until she gets thoroughly checked out and treated or taken care of or whatever she needs…" Dillon added while still looking at Holly. Then he looked back at Harry who turned his head to look back at Dillon. "I'd turn around right now and take her to a doctor except I think the kind of doctor she needs is, is one of your lot…" Dillon looked down as he spoke; he hated to think he needed Harry's lot for anything.  
          "And if he says she's not to be in school then I want you to take her right back to us! You understand?" Dillon asked looking back up at Harry. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this Harry," Dillon added apologetically. "It's apparently been going on for some time, now, but Holly never told us and I just found out while on the way here." Dillon looked back at Harry awaiting his response.  
          Harry sighed. "I'll see that she gets to a hea--doctor today, Dillon. After that, we'll see." Dillon nodded. That was acceptable. "But you should know," continued Harry, "that the school has an excellent infirmary with which Holly is well acquainted. The staff there can be in constant contact with Dr. Winonan so if there is any way she can continue her schooling while under medical supervision she'll do it. Like she did her first year."  
          Dillon sighed. "Yeah," he said heavily and he pulled out a packet of money, tuition payment, and shoved it into Harry's hands. "I remembered that later. It's just that she scared me so!"  
          "She's still a child, Dillon," said Harry mildly while staring at the packet in his hand. "Children make mistakes. What exactly happened?"  
          And Dillon proceeded to describe what he had seen and heard in the car.  
          "You were right to be concerned," said Harry when he finished. "I've never heard of people "remembering" that way either. I'll let you know what the doctor says," he added while placing the packet of money carefully in his pocket. "But I think we'd best be on our way so we can be sure to see that doctor before it gets too late."  
          Dillon nodded. He opened the car door on the side where Holly sat. "Out!" he told her bruskly. "You've a doctor to see!"

 

********************

 

          Harry watched silently as Holly obediently got out of the car. Her head hung down, strands of her long blonde hair blew in the breeze obscuring her face. Holly looked very much like a little girl in very big trouble and knew it. She stood uncertainly next to him while Dillon went to the trunk to get her things. "You don't do your parents justice," Harry observed quietly. Holly shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "They've gone through a lot," Harry added. "They're stronger than you think. And still you hid--"  
          "I didn't mean too!" blurted Holly looking up at Harry, her face streaked with tears. "It didn't seem that important," she added.   Harry stared steadily back without speaking. "I'm sorry!" blubbered Holly.  
          "I'm not the one you should be saying that to," Harry said calmly and nodded his head towards Dillon, who had just finished pulling Holly's bags out of the trunk. Holly immediately ran to Dillon and wrapped her arms about his waist sobbing… Dillon stopped what he was doing to hug her back.  
          Harry used the opportunity to check his "cell phone" to see if any other wizards, in particular Rita, was about. All clear. That was good. But who knew how long it would stay that way.  
          The time when the Wycliff family was most likely to be seen by other wizards was when Harry took custody of Holly for the fall. Everyone knew Holly would be in Diagon Alley to shop for supplies before school. That meant Harry would have to meet with the Wycliffs sometime earlier to get her. No one knew whether Harry went directly to the Wycliff house to get Holly, or whether the Wycliffs brought Holly to some prearranged place to be met and picked up. But Holly was too young to Apparate and so had to be physically brought from her home to London… Consequently, Wizard spies had been hovering all week around Harry and his family, watching what they did and where they went. Harry knew other wizards were covering the train and bus stations in London in the hopes of spotting Holly or getting a glimpse of her with her family. They were all seeking some clue as to where the Wycliffs lived.  
          Harry had no idea why the other wizards had been unable to locate the Wycliffs on their own but he had no intention of being the one responsible for giving away their location. While under no obligation to keep the Wycliff residence a secret, Harry knew the best chance Holly had of continuing her attendance at Hogwarts was to keep Dudley happy. Dudley would not be happy if he encountered a mob of persistent wizard reporters…  
          While Hermione would never admit it, Harry suspected she rather enjoyed the challenge of keeping one step ahead of the reporters. Today she had warded one of the bus stations in London. She had been warding various bus and train stations all week--at different times and different days. The wards would be found, of course, and quietly deactivated, or not. But the whole area would be carefully watched enabling Harry to slip in with Holly by another means.  
          Meanwhile Ron, disguised as Harry, (having taken polyjuice potion) was out shopping with Ginny and the children. It was another bit of misdirection to keep those watching busy. Ron would let the potion wear off around noon causing a mad scramble to determine Harry's actual whereabouts. Dudley would be long gone by the time Harry was located.  
          A sudden motion besides him caused Harry to look down. Holly had separated from Dudley and come to stand by him. Her face was tear-stained and smudgy but she didn't look nearly as forlorn. She and Dudley had obviously made up. Harry sighed inwardly. Since when had he become the family councilor…  
          "You ready to leave?" he asked Holly.  
          "Yes, sir," replied Holly as she wiped off some of the tears on her face. "Goodbye, daddy," she said as Harry took the bags from Dudley.  
          "Goodbye, baby," replied Dudley. He reached down and gave her a farewell hug. "You be good and do what the doctor says," he admonished.  
          “Yes, sir,” she whispered.  
          "I'll be in touch," assured Harry.  
          Dudley nodded and returned to the car. "Bye," he said one final time to Holly as he opened the door and slid into the car. Both Holly and Harry stood at the curb and watched silently as Dudley's car rolled out of sight. Out of habit, Harry pulled out his "cell phone" and gave it one more check before returning it to his pocket. Then he shifted the bags to a more comfortable carrying position and turned to Holly. "Shall we go?" he asked her. Holly nodded. Harry started towards the station entrance and Holly followed.

********************

          They had barely entered the station when Holly stopped. _"What now?"_ thought Harry as he looked down at Holly. Holly wasn't moving. She stood almost frozen in mid-step. _"Was this what Dudley had seen?"_ wondered Harry. He stood besides Holly silently and watched. Dudley said he had to speak to Holly to bring her out of it. Would that be necessary again? For a full minute, maybe two, Holly stood motionless. Then she continued her step forward, stopped and looked up at Harry sensing he had witnessed her actions.  
          "Were you remembering?" he asked her quietly. Holly hesitated and looked down. Harry waited.  
          "Yes," she whispered while staring fixedly at the floor.  
          "What were you remembering?" asked Harry curiously.  
          There was a longer silence before Holly spoke. "The last time I was in a station," she said finally.  
          Harry considered her answer. "Kings Cross?" he asked cautiously as that was the last station Harry knew Holly had visited. But Kings Cross looked nothing like this station…  
          "No," replied Holly in a low toneless voice. "Aylesbury."  
          Aylesbury! When had she been to Aylesbury? Harry felt his whole body give an unconscious shutter—it had to have been during the summer—after Vernon touched the plaque. What was Holly doing in Aylesbury? But this was not the time to ask that. This was also a medical situation. Aloud, Harry asked: "What did you see?"  
          Holly did not answer. It was clear this was difficult to talk about. "Holly, the experience is fresh in your mind," reminded Harry. "The more we can tell Healer Winonan, the better decision he can make about what's going on. I promised your father we would let Winonan decide whether you are fit to return to Hogwarts… "  
          "This station was here," she finally began in a low voice, "but also the other station. They were together, one over the other but I could see them both clearly because they didn't quite fit exactly. The other station was grubbier and it had a security checkpoint there." She pointed to a location in front of the boarding area. "And a door, a black door over there." Holly pointed to a blank wall. "There were people, too," she added. "From the other station. They stood in line to board the train." Harry looked at the station and tried to imagine what Holly had seen.  
          "What about in the car?" Harry asked quietly. As long as she was talking… "Your dad’s car. What did you see there?"  
          "Roland," Holly said briefly.  
          "Roland?" questioned Harry. Who the heck was Roland? She spoke the name with such familiarity. He would have to make inquiries.  
          "Yes," replied Holly in a monotone.  
          "And that scared you?" Harry remembered how Dillon described Holly's panicked expression.  
          "Very much," replied Holly without explaining further.  
          "Did he hurt you?"  
          "No," came the toneless response. "And I don't know why."  
          Harry longed to ask for more details, but didn't. There would be time for that later. Now he had to focus on gathering information for Winonan.      
          "What about the other times?" Harry probed gently. "In the car driving to and from home," he added when he saw Holly's questioning look. "What did you see then?"  
          "Mostly grubby streets and sidewalks, dirty cars," answered Holly softly, "billboard signs that didn't belong, and a few times Security flew by…"  
          Security _flew_ by??? "Did you "remember" the same exact thing more than once?"  
          "I don't know. Maybe. Most of the streets looked alike."  
          "Did the "remembering" happen at the same place or the same time?"  
          Holly shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered.  
          "What made the memories stop?" Harry asked curiously.  
          Holly shrugged. "They just did," she replied simply. "We were driving. The car moved, turned a corner, Sasha purred, Mum said something… Something sort of happened and they were gone."  
          "And this last time?"  
          "The people from this station walked right through the people lined up for the Security Check as if they weren't there and of course, they weren't."  
          "Were you lying?" Harry asked abruptly.  
          "Huh?" Holly looked at him in confusion.  
          "When you told your dad it only happened in cars and only two or three times a week, were you lying?"  
          "No! Of course not!" exclaimed Holly. She looked appalled Harry would even suggest such a thing.  
          "So today it has been two times in less than an hour and once was not in a car?"  
          "Y-yes," agreed Holly reluctantly.  
          "Then your father was right to worry," concluded Harry. He left the rest unsaid: that the remembering occurrences were getting more frequent and perhaps stronger. "But we can talk more about that later. I believe that is our train," Harry added indicating the one in front that had just pulled to a stop. "Come along." Harry urged Holly forward onto the nearest car. He had no idea where it was headed but that didn't matter today. Harry had made other transportation plans to London. They had stood out in the open too long. Right now Harry wanted to get Holly someplace less public, where they could talk in private.


	10. Chapter 10

Holly Wycliff lifted her bag holding Sasha and promptly boarded the train car indicated. She could feel the unease of Cousin Harry and, after her conversations with Vernon about reporters, thought she knew the reason why. She followed Cousin Harry down the aisle and watched as he selected an empty berth. Cousin Harry moved in first and stowed her bags overhead. Holly followed and took a seat setting down the bag with Sasha besides her. Pets weren't really permitted on the train so Sasha would wait quietly in the bag until Holly told her it was safe to come out.  
          Cousin Harry shut the door and pulled down the shutters. Then he drew out his wand and briefly whispered, _"Muffeliato."_  
          Holly stared at him wide-eyed. Suddenly she had an image of that other wizard, Wizard Pilkington, doing the same thing. Unlike much of that other world, Wizard Pilkington hadn't been scary. But Holly could see his curly red-brown hair, brown eyes and wizard robes wavering in front, sitting down across from her as Cousin Harry was doing. _“Now we can get down to business,”_ Wizard Pilkington had said as he put away his wand and looked directly into her eyes. Holly could hear him say it even as Cousin Harry spoke. Holly closed her eyes and shook her head to try to remove the image of Wizard Pilkington. "I'm sorry," she stammered while trying to focus on Cousin Harry. "What were you saying?"  
          Cousin Harry looked at Holly strangely. "I asked if you were ready to talk about what happened this summer?" he said.  
          "Yes, sir," replied Holly. "More than ready."  
          "Good," said Cousin Harry and he leaned back in his seat. "But first, I have something to give you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slender, almost transparent chain. Dangling from the end was a small gold key. "Sasha found this," he told Holly handing her both key and chain.  
          "Thank you," said Holly as she slipped the chain over her neck. "And thank you," she told Sasha who popped happily out of the bag to receive an affectionate petting. "I have something for you too," she told Cousin Harry. Holly had found it with her when she woke in the hospital and had kept it safely stashed inside her pillow case with her pillow all summer long removing it only that morning in anticipation of this meeting.  
          "Oh?"  
          Holly reached under her shirt and felt for something there, her fingers immediately recognized the distinctive feeling of water woven into material— _"What is it?"_ asked Mrs. Figg curiously. Holly squeezed her eyes shut but she could still see Mrs. Figg’s elderly form with sausage-sized curlers and a faded blue kerchief on her head superimposed weirdly over Cousin Harry’s body.  
          “Holly!” she heard Cousin Harry say sharply; she could feel his intense concern.  
          Holly kept her eyes shut. “I’m hearing voices, now, too!” she managed to say. “Please don't ask me to explain,” Holly begged. “It'll make more sense aft—after I tell you what happened this summer.”  
          “O.K.,” came Cousin Harry’s voice. She could both sense and hear the worry in his tone.  
          Holly shifted in her seat and realized her hand was still beneath her shirt. “Here!” she said suddenly and thrust the slippery material in her hands out towards Cousin Harry. Holly opened her eyes in time to see Cousin Harry’s mouth drop open.  
          “What? How? Where?” Cousin Harry’s mouth close slowly and he looked questioningly at Holly.  
          “It was given to me,” Holly explained shyly. It was Cousin Harry’s invisibility cloak. Would he be angry she had it; angry she hadn’t returned it sooner?  
          Harry stared at the cloak for a long time without speaking. Then he shook out the cloak gently. She could feel his quiet joy at its return. The silvery color seemed to ripple like running water on a moonlit night. “I believe I owe James an apology,” he finally said as he refolded the cloak and tucked it securely under his own shirt. “He’ll be glad to learn he hadn't accidentally misplaced it,” continued Cousin Harry. “We searched everywhere for the cloak but I never considered that it was somehow connected with what happened to you…   We didn’t notice it was missing until much later,” he added by way of explanation. “How?” he began and then stopped. “Was it of use?” he finally asked.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly. “Very much, sir.”  
          “Then I am glad you had it. Thank you so much for returning it. I look forward to hearing how the cloak was used. Now—”  
_“Let me contact them.”_ Wizard Pilkington’s words suddenly drowned out whatever Cousin Harry was saying and Holly saw the curly haired Wizard Pilkington lean forward through Cousin Harry’s body, reaching out with his hand. Holly squeezed her eyes shut trying to block the memories. _“It’s going to be O.K.,”_ she still heard him say reassuringly even though she could no longer see his body. Reaching out blindly, Holly felt the seat opposite her. She grabbed onto it and traded sides. Managing her memories was more difficult than she expected. She felt Sasha leap onto her lap and settle down. Holly gave the cat several strokes and felt her reassuring purr under her fingers.  
          “Is that better?” she heard Cousin Harry ask.  
           Cautiously Holly opened her eyes. All she saw was the burgundy colored seat in front of her—no unexpected people. “Much,” replied Holly all the while stroking Sasha. She was relieved that Cousin Harry didn't ask why the change in seat had been necessary. Now if Holly “remembered” something, at least it wouldn’t be superimposed over Cousin Harry’s body. That had been more than a little disconcerting. Holly felt Cousin Harry’s arm rest gently on her shoulder and she snuggled against him. Sasha shifted her position accordingly and began to knead lightly on Holly’s leg. “What were you saying?” Holly asked.  
          “I was wondering why you didn’t just return to the tree to set Vernon free?” said Cousin Harry in a neutral tone.  
          “Because there wasn’t any tree,” replied Holly in a low voice while she stroked Sasha more quickly.  
          “No tree?” said Cousin Harry in disbelief. Holly could feel his hand gripping her shoulder tightly with emotion.  
          “It got destroyed during a wizard fight,” explained Holly answering his unasked question. “At least that’s what Mrs. Figg said.”  
          “Mrs. Figg?” Holly could feel an array of different emotions flow through Cousin Harry as he absorbed the information.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly, her hand on Sasha slowed to a stop. “She said she used to babysit you.”  
          “She did,” agreed Cousin Harry. “She was one of my neighbors. I never knew she was a friend of Dumbledore until much later. Dumbledore had asked her to keep an eye on me, you see. And she was still there? You met Mrs. Figg?”  
          “Yes,” affirmed Holly. “She invited me to tea,” Holly added while absently stroking Sasha. And Holly proceeded to tell Harry what she had learned from Mrs. Figg and how Mrs. Figg had given Holly a package from Dumbledore…  
          “How did he know?” whistled Cousin Harry in amazement.  
          “Mrs. Figg said he was the greatest wizard ever,” replied Holly carefully.  
          “He was,” agreed Cousin Harry softly. Holly could feel love, respect and admiration emanate from Cousin Harry that could only be for Dumbledore. Somehow she didn’t want to destroy that illusion by revealing what the portrait had told her later. Holly continued with her story.  
          “What was in the vault?” asked Cousin Harry curiously when Holly mentioned the key.  
          “I’ll get to that later,” replied Holly evasively and she described opening the third package.  
          “Dumbledore had the cloak when my father died,” Cousin Harry mused softly. “He gave it to me my first year at Hogwarts. I didn’t take the cloak with me that night when we went looking for Ginny. I guess he must have found it with my things afterwards. What better place to put it than to leave the cloak for a possible relative to use…”  
          Holly continued her story.  
          “I remember Polkiss,” said Cousin Harry when Holly described the visit from Security. Cousin Harry’s emotions were cold and hard as he spoke.  
          “Mrs. Figg said that he used to hang out with dad,” said Holly.  
          “Yeah, he did,” agreed Harry bluntly without elaborating, his emotions still icy cold.  
          “Dad was a bit of a bully, wasn’t he?” asked Holly looking up at Cousin Harry. “Don’t answer that!” added Holly swiftly. She already knew the answer just by Cousin Harry’s behavior and suddenly realized it had been an unfair question. Cousin Harry had never spoken a word against dad and would probably not do so now. “He isn’t a bully now,” she assured him softly.  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Cousin Harry reluctantly. Holly felt his arm on her shoulder relax slightly. Then she related the travel plans she had made with Mrs. Figg and her walk to the bus station.  
          “They picked you up just like that?” said Harry in amazement when Holly described her arrest. “How did they know?”  
          “I didn’t know it at the time, but I guess it was because I didn’t have a Muggle mark,” replied Holly softly. Just talking about that Security arrest tied her stomach into uncomfortable knots.  
          “Muggle mark?”  
          “I learned about that later,” said Holly vaguely and proceeded to describe her time in Security.  
          “I always regretted suggesting we share the cup,” said Cousin Harry softly when she told of meeting Cedric Diggory. Holly could feel Cousin Harry’s intense sorrow and guilt as he spoke. “Perhaps Cedric would still be alive if I hadn’t.”  
          “And perhaps something else would have happened,” suggested Holly softly. “You can’t predict the future...”   And the two sat in silence thinking of what was and could have been. After a while Holly resumed her story.  
          “He knew!” said Cousin Harry flatly when Holly described Wizard Flint’s return. “Green eyes and Little Winging! Tom Riddle knew the curse had been activated; he knew there was a chance! How did you get away?”  
          “Wizard Flint decided to have lunch…”  
          Cousin Harry laughed at Holly's description of her escape. “Well, it wasn’t funny at the time!” wailed Holly. “And I wished I could have done more!”  
          “Hence the karate?”  
          “Yes!” agreed Holly grimly. “He won’t get off so easy next time, if there is a next time!”  
          “There won’t be,” assured Cousin Harry. “So what happened next?”  
          Cousin Harry held Holly tight as she sobbed about Ravindra and marveled at the power in the words of a forgotten World War II song. “And then I saw Roland…” whispered Holly. Strange, she couldn’t see him now, not the way she had seen him in the car, but the thought of Roland standing there was just as terrifying.  
          “Who’s Roland?” questioned Cousin Harry softly.  
          And Holly explained about Roland. “I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t tell anyone," added Holly, “and that worried me more. Then I saw the bag…”  
          “What bag?”  
          Holly lifted her hand from Sasha and spelled the letters out with her fingers into the air as she spoke, “Y-C-L-F. It was on the bag in the Lost and Found!”  
          “Y-C-L-F? Wycliff!” exclaimed Cousin Harry in amazement. “Who knew your name?”  
          “I only told Wizard Pilkington,” whispered Holly and she proceeded to describe getting the bag and the bag contents.  
          “You said he said he wanted to help,” mused Cousin Harry when she had finished. “I guess he really meant it. What did you do next?”  
          “Diagon Alley,” replied Holly firmly.  
          “And Gringotts?”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly happy to avoid relating the time she had stood in front of the Security screen watching the list of accused wizard criminals, herself included. “But Gringotts wasn’t there!”  
          "Not there?" exclaimed Cousin Harry in disbelief. His hand gripped her shoulder tightly.  
          “No,” whispered Holly. “I mean there was a Gringotts, but it was red and gold and not like Gringotts at all.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small gold key. “I knew this key would never fit any vault at that place,” Holly added sorrowfully while holding out the key for his inspection. “I’ll never know what Dumbledore left for me there.” she sighed. “Do you suppose we can see if it fits to anything here?” Holly asked as she returned the key to her pocket.  
          “We could always make inquiries,” replied Cousin Harry solemnly.  
          “I was pretty depressed when I saw Gringotts,” admitted Holly continuing her story. “I didn't know what to do next and didn't really care." Sasha turned on her back and stretched out.  
          “So what did you do?”  
          “I went to Grimmauld Place.”  
          “No!”  
          “It was the only other place I knew in London,” explained Holly as her fingers instinctively began a gentle rub on Sasha's belly.  
          “And you got in?”  
          “Not at first,” Holly confessed, “but then I remembered you had inherited it from your godfather and substituted his name for yours and the spell worked just fine.”  
          “I am impressed,” said Cousin Harry warmly. “But Grimmauld place! It was a Slytherin stronghold!” Holly could feel worry come through strongly as Cousin Harry spoke. “What could you hope to gain by going there?”  
          “I don't really know,” said Holly. “I wasn't thinking very clearly then. I just knocked on the door.”  
          “What happened?” asked Cousin Harry in breathless anticipation.  
          “Sirius Black opened the door.”  
          “Sirius! He was alive!” Holly could sense excitement surge within Cousin Harry.  
          Holly shrugged. “I guess so,” she replied. “At least that's who he said he was. I asked him for help and he got me to Hogwarts. He was very nice. But I ended up on the edge of Hogwarts’ property and had to walk—”  
          “Miss Wycliff,” interrupted Cousin Harry sternly, “I am well aware my godfather spent several years in Azkaban Prison as a convicted felon. I also know he hated the house in Grimmauld Place more than anything.” Cousin Harry paused a moment and then continued. “That you should find Sirius _alive_ and in _that_ particular house after all those years is amazing. That you gloss over the details of that encounter suggests what you found would be something you think I might not wish to hear.”  
          He fell silent to let his words sink in. Then he continued. “I know he wasn’t perfect,” admitted Cousin Harry, “but I loved him very much. Please tell me what happened, Holly. Tell me everything so that my godfather might live for me again as he lived for you.”  
          Holly never intended to tell Cousin Harry anything about her visit with Sirius Black but she could feel such intense sorrow and longing behind Cousin Harry's words… Holly sighed. “I think I woke him up,” she began softly…

********************

          “…It didn’t look like he was a prisoner in that house but that's what he said,” continued Holly. “And when he spoke, he touched his hand to this silver serpent like band that was around his neck. He was so sorrowful; I knew it was the truth though I didn't understand how.”  
           “Sirius would have never worn anything in the shape of a serpent!” said Cousin Harry firmly.  
           “And then when Bellatrix came--”  
           “Bellatrix!” interrupted Cousin Harry sharply. “You saw Bellatrix?” The grip on her shoulder tightened and Holly could feel cold hatred coming from Cousin Harry at the mention of her name.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly. “She waltzed in without even knocking like she owned the place. I got the impression Bellatrix was Sirius’ jailer. Sirius hated her and she had nothing but contempt for him. At the same time Bellatrix was extremely suspicious of me and looked totally lethal waving that wand at me demanding to know how I managed to get inside the house. Sirius practically shoved her wand aside and acted as if my presence was no big deal. I was terrified but he wasn't afraid, not one bit. He was very protective but not afraid.”  
          “Sirius was a Gryffindor,” Cousin Harry reminded her proudly.  
          “So he was,” mused Holly thoughtfully having never before thought much about what made a Gryffindor.  
          “You should have heard the story Sirius started telling Bellatrix—that I was going to be his Muggle companion because he was lonely in that big empty house! And all the while Sirius was slurring his words and stumbling around like he had had too much butterbeer! But he wasn’t affected by the butterbeer at all, not then anyway!” Holly amended. “I mean when I first met him he was,” she confessed while looking at Cousin Harry anxiously to see if he was upset by her revelation. “He could barely see straight let alone walk!” Holly added honestly when she didn't note any adverse reaction. “But around Bellatrix, Sirius’ mind was alert and his stumbling deliberate. It was as if he were a completely different person!”  
           “Sirius was a man of action,” reflected Cousin Harry softly. “I think he was his best under pressure.” Holly could feel both pride and love radiate from Cousin Harry.  
           “I don't know how he came up with such a story so quickly,” added Holly, “and he was so convincing! If I hadn't been reading his emotions, I’d have been totally offended! Bellatrix was thoroughly disgusted. Unfortunately, she’d also seen the Security Alerts. And Ravindra's mark was not enough to convince her I was Muggle despite what Sirius claimed.”  
          “No doubt being found in an unplottable house had something to do with it,” commented Cousin Harry dryly.  
          “And one supposed to be extremely top secret,” agreed Holly. “But Sirius’ act kept Bellatrix distracted long enough for him to get me to the kitchen door. Then, when Bellatrix decided to see if my Muggle mark was real or not, Sirius lifted that whole kitchen table onto her and got us out of the room! He slammed the door in her face, called Kreacher and ordered him to take me to Hogwarts!”  
          “Well done!” applauded Cousin Harry heartily cheering his godfather. “So that’s how you got to Hogwarts?”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly with a smile. “But Kreacher wasn’t very nice,” she added with a frown as she absently continued her belly rub on Sasha.  
          “No,” agreed Cousin Harry soberly. “He wasn’t.” And Holly felt Cousin Harry grow cold and distant. She didn’t think it appropriate to ask why.  
          “Kreacher left me at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and I had to walk," continued Holly. "There were dementors guarding the castle,” Holly added and her voice trailed off. Holly didn't want to think about what had happened when the dementors had swooped down upon her but at the same time couldn't help but remember. “I don’t like dementors,” Holly said finally while trying to shut out the thoughts of overwhelming depression she had felt at their presence.  
          “I don't either,” agreed Cousin Harry. “You’ve encountered quite a few of them, haven’t you? Perhaps you should ask Professor Lovegood to teach you the patronus spell. It’s a fairly advanced spell but is the only thing effective against dementors—not that you’ll be meeting any more dementors, I hope, but just in case.”  
          “Like the karate?”  
          “Yes, like the karate.”  
          “I’ll do that.” A long silence followed while Holly listened to the peaceful rumble of the train. She didn’t want to relate the next part; it was too upsetting. Finally she began to speak again, knowing she had to finish her story. “I wanted to die,” she whispered.  
          “Dementors do that,” agreed Cousin Harry.  
          Holly didn't argue. “Somebody pulled me into the castle, up to the Headmaster's office and tied me to a chair there. He wasn't very nice,” Holly added thoughtfully while trying to remember what the voice had said while urging her up the stairs. “I begged the Headmaster to kill me!” whispered Holly. “It was the only way to keep him alive. But Dumbledore insisted the Headmaster should know the reason why first.”  
          “Dumbledore!”  
          “The portrait,” explained Holly. “And once the Headmaster knew…” Her voice trailed off. Holly could feel the tears well up in her eyes. “He saved me,” she said simply and rubbed the tears from her eyes. “He knew what would happen and still he saved me. He walked me up to the trophy room right under Lord Voldemort's nose—”  
          “Voldemort!!! You met Lord Voldemort?!!!”  
          “Yes, the caretaker brought him.”  
          “The caretaker?”  
          “Somebody named Pettigrew.”  
          “Pettigrew was still alive?”  
          “He recognized me earlier,” added Holly. “He didn’t like the Headmaster and was trying to get him into trouble somehow.”  
          “Pettigrew knew mum well,” said Harry softly. “He betrayed my parents to Lord Voldemort!”  
          “Oh,” said Holly thoughtfully, then added, “I’m not surprised. He seemed to ooze deceit.”  
          “And Lord Voldemort?”  
          Holly shivered. “Nasty,” she said and shivered again. “Total power, total control, total suspicion. And when he looked into my mind—”  
          “No! Oh, Holly!” exclaimed Cousin Harry with true distress. “Did he find out who you were?”  
          “Not everything,” whispered Holly while staring blankly at the couch and wall in front of her, lost in memories. “And not about the trophy room or he would have never let me go in there.”  
          “He let you go in?” Cousin Harry said in amazement.  
          “The Headmaster,” Holly began haltingly, “he held his wand on Lord Voldemort,” her voice trembled as she spoke, “and suggested I go in the trophy room to be safe from the flying spells. He reminded the Dark Lord that l could be useful, an Empath, you see… But that wasn’t why the Headmaster wanted me to go to the trophy room.” Holly buried her head in Cousin Harry’s shoulder. “He t-told Lord Voldemort I couldn’t escape from there while they fought. But the Headmaster knew different. And they waited for me to…” Holly gulped and rubbed the tears flowing freely from her eyes. “I, I didn't want to but the Headmaster made me go—he said he wanted me to remember him as he was…” Holly started to sob openly.  
          “And do you?” asked Cousin Harry quietly when the sobs subsided.  
          “Yes,” she whispered. “He had his wand out and stood there determinedly facing Lord Voldemort—so brave and unafraid…” Holly began to cry some more—huge wracking sobs that she had been holding back ever since her return.  
          “He was one of the bravest men I ever knew,” whispered Cousin Harry sharing her grief while he held her tight and Holly cried some more.

********************

          “So,” began Cousin Harry in a lighter voice when the tears subsided, “I take it one wand wasn’t enough to blast out of that room after you broke the curse?” He fished out a tissue from his pocket and handed it to Holly.  
          “I don’t know,” Holly admitted after she wiped the tears from her face. “I tried to blast the wrong wall!”  
          “You did?”  
          “Yes, I forgot the trophy room plaque wasn’t there any more, not in this world… Vernon had to tell me which wall he had come in from and we started towards that direction but the ceiling was falling and, uh, I don’t remember anything after that. How did you get us out?”  
          “Ginny removed the plaque from the tree and came in after you." Cousin Harry added. "She said you were both right under the hole we had made.”  
          “That was fortunate.”  
          “Very,” agreed Cousin Harry solemnly while leaning back in the chair. The rumbling train slowed noticeably. It had done so before slowing to a stop frequently, but this time Cousin Harry stood. “I believe this is where we get off,” he said while stretching his arms. Then Cousin Harry reached out and grabbed Holly's bags. Holly stood and opened her carrying case. Sasha leaped into the bag. Holly reached out and took the cake boxes with her other hand and the two made their way off the train.

********************

          "Where are we?" Holly asked as she looked around at the bucolic scene outside the station. It wasn't even a station, more of an empty depot in the middle of nowhere. It was definitely not London.  
          "Honestly? I have no idea," answered Cousin Harry while looking about at the pastures surrounding the depot. "Somewhere Northeast of London, I expect," he added. "At least that was the direction the train was headed when we got on."  
          "Not London?"  
          "No," Cousin Harry replied, "definitely not. I didn't want your story to get interrupted by having to get off too soon so I made other plans to London." He pulled out a small business card. "Want to do the honors?" he asked handing the card to Holly.  
          Holly looked down at the card and smiled. "Stan!" she called out loudly to the card. "We're ready!"  
          After a few minutes a battered old looking taxi rolled up. “‘Allo ‘Arry!" said a smiling Stan as he got out of the taxi. “An’ you too, Miss ‘olly!" he added with a cheerful grin. "How are you t’day?"  
          "We're fine," replied Holly warmly. "And you?" she asked as Stan moved to the rear of the taxi. Stan Shunpike, no longer wore the fancy livery of a limousine driver that Holly had seen earlier but a simple clean shirt and matching cap.  
          "Busy as usual!" said Stan as he popped open the trunk. "But not so busy that I can't take th’ time ta fetch you two!" he added with a grin. He reached out and relieved Holly of her cake boxes.  
          “Thank you,” Holly murmured.  
          “No problem,” replied Stan while he put the boxes in his trunk. Then he moved quickly over and took the bags from Cousin Harry.  
          "And should anyone ask," began Cousin Harry as Stan put the bags inside the trunk, "be sure to tell them _exactly_ where you picked us up!"  
          "If you insist, ‘Arry," replied Stan as he closed the trunk. "But they won't ask," Stan added as he moved up and opened the back door for Holly. "They know I never talk about my passengers!"  
          "Thank you," said Holly as she slid inside the cab.  
          "Any time!" replied Stan cheerfully to Holly. "Besides," he added to Cousin Harry while looking around at the stone fences and green pastures that surrounded the depot, "they'd never believe me!"  
          "That would be _their_ problem, not yours," replied Cousin Harry dryly as he got into the cab. While Stan shut the cab door, Cousin Harry leaned over to Holly and whispered, "I would recommend using your seat belt today." His hand reached for the straps as well. Holly nodded and rapidly buckled up.  
          “Where to?” asked Stan as he slid behind the wheel.  
          “The bank, I believe,” said Cousin Harry. “You know, the Muggle one you took us to last year. And then we need to go to St. Mungo’s.”  
          “You got it!” said Stan and the taxi took off with a lurch.  
          “Is your wand handy by any chance?” asked Cousin Harry as the trees and fences whizzed by. Holly nodded. “Then you should probably get your passbook ready. We’ve a lot to get done today.”  
          Holly obediently pulled out her wand and pointed it at a charm in her bracelet, the one that was a miniaturized, transfigured passbook.  
          “That’s mum’s wand!” exclaimed Cousin Harry looking on with delight. “I thought it had been lost in the room! I asked Ginny about it later but she said she hadn’t seen it! Of course, she didn't stick around to look, either."  
          "Vernon picked it up earlier for me."  
          "He did?" said Cousin Harry in surprise. "Well, that was thoughtful of him!"  
          "It was," agreed Holly with a smile and proceeded to undo the magic surrounding her passbook.

********************

          Harry Potter watched as Healer Winonan conducted his examination. It seemed very thorough. No doubt the Healer wanted to insure Holly had made a full recovery from her summer “experience.” Holly answered Healer Winonan’s questions readily. “No,” there wasn’t any residual pain or stiffness; “no,” she hadn’t experienced any headaches; “yes,” her appetite was good; “no,” there wasn’t any problem sleeping... Holly looked the picture of good health but Harry noted Holly didn’t volunteer any extra information. Winonan just wasn’t asking the right questions; instead of worrying about nightmares, Winonan should have been concerned with _day_ mares!  
          “There is one other thing,” stated Harry mildly when it became clear that the examination had ended and Healer Winonan was about to take Holly on a tour of the hospital. Both Healer Winonan and Holly stopped at the doorway. Healer Winonan turned and looked at Harry expectantly. “It seems that Holly has been, um, remembering a lot…”  
          “Oh? What kind of remembering?” Winonan asked and looked at Holly sharply awaiting further explanation. But none came. Holly tipped her head letting her blonde hair cover her face and stared at her shoes instead. Healer Winonan switched his glance to Harry instead.  
          “They sound a bit like flashbacks,” replied Harry vaguely, “but I get the impression they are a bit more vivid than a simple flashback.”  
          “Indeed!” replied Healer Winonan. “Tell me about them,” he said looking again at Holly.  Holly started pulling at her shirt and twisting her ankles and feet into awkward positions. “It’s rather difficult for me to help if I don’t know what’s going on, young lady,” said Healer Winonan sternly. “Now, how long have you been, uh, remembering?”  
          “A while,” Holly whispered as she pulled her shirt this way and that while continuing to stare resolutely down at her shoes.  
          Winonan looked again at Harry expectantly waiting for further explanation. Harry sighed and readjusted his glasses. He had been afraid this would happen. Albus was reluctant to speak about his experiences within the room or the problems he suffered afterwards to his family, let alone outsiders and Holly appeared similarly inclined. “I believe they’ve been occurring off and on since her last visit to St. Mungo’s,” Harry finally said.  
          “Why wasn’t I informed sooner?” Winonan demanded. Holly tugged more aggressively at her shirt and twisted her ankles.  
          “Ah, apparently the incidents were so brief and infrequent that Holly considered them inconsequential,” Harry answered for her. He hated to see Holly squirm so.  
          “How infrequent?”  
          “Um,” Harry thought back on what he’d been told. “Two or three times a week,” he answered, “and always when in a Muggle transport vehicle.”  
          “I see.” Winonan considered this information. “That does not sound infrequent to me," he observed bluntly. "But that is besides the point. If they were inconsequential, why  bring them up now?”    
          “Her father is worried,” replied Harry. “He was present while Holly was “remembering” and is not sure it’s wise for her to attend school under such circumstances.”  
          “Why is that?”  
          “Ah, they seem to have intensified,” replied Harry softly.  
          “Since when?”  
          “Since today.”  
          “Indeed. In what way?”  
          Harry hesitated. How to best describe what Dillon had told him? He proceeded to repeat what Dillon had seen and then went on to describe what he had observed at the station.  
         “Three times in one day?” asked Healer Winonan sharply.  
          “Yes,” confirmed Harry, “perhaps four.” Both Healer Winonan and Harry looked down at Holly for confirmation.  
          “Five,” Holly whispered keeping her face averted as she twisted her now out-of-shape shirt the other direction.  
          “And some of them with voices?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Did they say something new or were they repeating things you had heard earlier?”  
          “Repeating, I think.”  
          “Well, that’s something,” concluded Healer Winonan.   “I want to know immediately if the voices say something new, do you understand?”  
          “Yes sir,” came Holly’s small voice.  
          “Now, do you know the cause of these incidents?”  
          Holly shrugged. “No,” she whispered uncooperatively.  
          “I don’t know during the summer,” added Harry thoughtfully, “but Holly and her father were discussing classmates at Hogwarts when the severe one happened.”  
          “Were the other incidents Hogwarts related as well?”  
          “I’m not sure but I don’t believe so.” Harry looked to Holly for confirmation and she, at least, didn’t seem to disagree.  
          “Oh,” replied Winonan thoughtfully. “What do you think, Fiona?” he asked turning to the portrait of a matronly lady with dark brown hair that hung on the back wall. The lady in Middle Ages style clothing had been listening to the exchange with interest.  
          “I think the father was right to be worried!” Fiona replied importantly. “I mean, what if the child has one of those “memories” while she’s flying on a broomstick? She could fall!”  
          “But we don’t know if she’ll have one while on a broom…” reminded Healer Winonan.  
          “That’s the problem!” complained Fiona. “We don’t know! They’ve only occurred while the child was traveling. Perhaps nothing will happen once she gets to Hogwarts and stays in one place!”  
          “Or perhaps she’ll experience more,” mused Healer Winonan. “Maybe the sudden increase in the number of remembrances is due to the fact she is leaving a predominately Muggle area and going to a wizard one. In which case, she’d be safer back home…”  
          “Or it could be due to something else altogether!   We can’t prevent her from going to school on a basis of a _maybe!”_ argued Fiona. “That wouldn’t be fair!”  
          “True,” agreed Winonan. “But we can take certain precautions…”

*********************

          Holly stared glumly at the curb while waiting for Stan. Listening to Cousin Harry describe her problems had been the most mortifying thing ever! At least Mr. Potter had kept the details of her remembrances general and didn’t go into specifics, but still… Those restrictions lined out by Healer Winonan meant messages to the Headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, and the Professors. It provided for special consideration in the classrooms should something happen and meant questions Holly didn’t want to answer. If word of all this leaked out to the general student population, Holly would never hear the end of it! Prefect Richards and his younger brother Anthony would have a field day! They always maintained Holly got special treatment at school and this year they would be right!  
          The battered taxi rolled to a stop at the curb. “Where to?” asked Stan cheerfully after Holly and Cousin Harry had slid in.  
          “Diagon Alley,” replied Cousin Harry.  
          “Comin’ up!” And the cab took off with a lurch.


	11. Chapter 11

          The taxi skidded to a stop. Cousin Harry and Holly Wycliff got out. The luggage would remain in the trunk until they were finished shopping. Holly held Sasha in her arms and stroked her listening the cat’s loud purr as she stared apprehensively at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. To Holly’s relief it looked much the same as she remembered it. She followed Cousin Harry inside.  
         “Hallo Harry,” came a cheerful voice. Holly listened absently as she stared around the room with interest. “Seen Rita lately? I hear she’s looking for you,” continued the voice. They were the same tables and chairs, but too many! They seemed to fit into each other like puzzle pieces blanketing the room from wall to wall.  
         “Yeah, well tell her where I am so she can call off the hounds,” replied Harry good-naturedly. There were way too many people in the Cauldron, from Holly's perspective. Of course some of them only "looked" there, but didn't seem to be physically present. They were the ones who mostly wore bright green robes and sat confidently in the center of the room despite being seemingly cut at the waist by the overlapping tables.    
          “Can I claim the reward?”  
          “Be my guest, Lee,” said Cousin Harry. “Just make sure you get paid _before_ you give her my whereabouts!” and the whole room laughed. “Excuse us,” added Cousin Harry in a genial voice and Holly felt a hand at her elbow. “We have some shopping to do.” And Cousin Harry gently steered Holly between the tables and to the back door.  
          “Were you “remembering?” asked Cousin Harry quietly after he had closed the back door of the Leaky Cauldron.  
          Holly didn’t want to reply or admit she had had one more episode, but it was pretty obvious Cousin Harry already knew the answer or he wouldn’t have asked… “Yes,” she whispered while staring fixedly at the closed door. It didn’t overlap. “Why haven’t you told Rita where we lived if she wants to know so badly,” Holly suddenly asked thus preventing further inquiries about her experience within the Leaky Cauldron.  
          “She’s never asked me,” replied Cousin Harry promptly. “And if she did, I would suggest that she put her request in writing. I would then forward it to your parents for their consideration and response. I doubt your dad would agree, though,” he added. “The past experiences your dad has had with other members of the wizard community were, uh, less than positive. Come along,” said Cousin Harry and he started towards the back wall in the empty space behind the Leaky Cauldron. Holly turned to join him when she froze!  
          “What is it?” she dimly heard Cousin Harry ask while she stared at the side wall.  
          “It was here,” Holly managed to say, lost in her memories…  
          “What was?”  
          “The Security Alert screen!” she answered in a dreamy voice. “Alert number 983—that was me!” she added. “Name, unknown. Long brown hair, green eyes, aged 13, traveling without a permit, resisting arrest, assault, vandalism, considered dangerous—approach with caution…” Holly reached up with a hand trying to touch the screen that wasn’t there. “And it showed my photo over and over again while I waited.”  
          “There’s no Security screen,” said Cousin Harry interrupting Holly’s memories, “and there never will be,” he added with certainty.  
          Holly blinked several times forcing the image of the screen to vanish. “No,” she agreed softly now staring at a blank wall and feeling its grainy surface. “There’s no screen. Not any more.” She turned and faced the familiar brick wall that was the entrance of Diagon Alley. It hadn’t changed at all.  
          Cousin Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the bricks in the required order. “Ready?” he asked turning towards Holly while pausing before the last brick.  
          Holly took a deep breath steeling herself. “Ready,” she replied. Holly closed her eyes, heard the sound of the tap on the last brick and waited a minute. When she opened her eyes, all of Diagon Alley lay before her. The Alley was filled with people in colorful clothes and lined with brightly painted shops carrying all sorts of wares for sale.  
          “Is this like it was before,” asked Cousin Harry curiously.  
          “No, sir,” replied Holly with relief. “It was closing time and nearly empty.” Sasha jumped out of her arms, eager to explore and Holly followed Cousin Harry as he set out between the crowds. “I ran the last time,” she added as they walked, “so I didn’t notice much.”  
          The two came to a stop in front of Gringotts. “White!” breathed Holly happily as she stared at the snowy white building with its sparkling white pillars. A tiny knot in her stomach she hadn’t known existed started to unravel. Holly stepped forward and touched one of the pillars; the smooth surface felt cool and reassuringly solid. The hideous red and gold of the other building that she saw superimposed upon this Gringotts vanished of its own accord.  Impulsively Holly hugged the pillar and took pleasure in the knowledge that what had happened during the summer was only a distant memory.

 ********************

          “May I help you?”  
          Harry Potter looked down into the black eyes and inscrutable face of Griphook. “Um. Yes,” he said quietly. “There’s a vault we’d like to visit.”  
          “Number 123!” chimed in Holly eagerly. Was that a start? A change in Griphook’s expression? Harry couldn’t tell for sure. Whatever he had seen was gone so soon.  
          “May I see your key, please,” asked Griphook, his face again inscrutable.  
          Holly reached into her pocket, fished out her key and handed it to Griphook.    
          He took the tiny gold key without comment and looked at it closely. “Where did you get this?” Griphook asked sharply. He tilted his head up to face Holly; his glittering black eyes studied her intently.  
           “It was given to me,” replied Holly suddenly wary. She held her hand out for the return of the key but Griphook ignored her and returned his attention to the key turning it over and over again slowly with his long fingers scrutinizing it carefully.  
           “Is there a problem?” asked Harry keeping his voice carefully neutral. There shouldn’t—if the key was still Dumbledore’s. But if Dumbledore had gotten the vault after Harry had “died” perhaps the original owner of the vault was still alive, still using it… Perhaps there were some other complications concerning the key or the vault...  If either were the case, it could be very difficult to explain how Holly had come into possession of the key… Equally difficult to explain would be the situation if the ownership of the vault had fallen into someone else’s hands _after_ Dumbledore had died…  
          “No!” said Griphook abruptly and he handed the key back to Holly. “Follow me please.”  
          Griphook led the two past the long row of seated goblins in the main hall. They were all busily working, as usual. Griphook opened one of the doors that led off the main marble hall. Behind lay a narrow stone passage lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and had little railway tracks running down the middle of the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart rolled swiftly up to them. The three climbed in.  
          “Hang on,” Cousin Harry reminded Holly as he gripped the edge of the cart tightly. But his words weren’t necessary. Sasha had already leaped into her bag and Holly was in the process of tucking it between herself and Cousin Harry. Then she reached her free hand out to the other edge of the cart and gripped it tightly.   Suddenly the cart took off. It rounded a corner, then another one and continued on in total darkness leaving the lit torches behind at the doorway. The cart turned at right angles and turned again, and again and again always heading further down. Deeper and deeper they traveled. Icy cold drops of water splashed onto Harry’s face. It was probably the Thief’s Downfall—the goblin water that washed away all enchantment and magical concealment. Somewhere in the dark Harry could hear the sound of rushing water and beyond it came the sounds of loud menacing roars and growls. They echoed eerily in the caves no doubt belonging to some unnamed creatures.  
          Abruptly the cart came to a stop. A single candle flickered on illuminating a door near the cart. The area was unfamiliar to Harry but he did not expect otherwise. The tunnel system under Gringotts was a labyrinth and Harry had never visited this particular vault before. All three got out. Harry held his hand under Holly’s elbow supporting her while their senses returned; the cart ride in the darkness had been very disorienting. It always was. Harry often wondered if it were more than speed and wild turns that created such disorientation. He never asked though. Such a question might be interpreted as part of a new plan to rob the bank.  
          “Your key?” said Griphook calmly. Holly again pulled out her key and held it out to him. Griphook took the key, unlocked the door and then stepped aside as it slid open. Blue smoke billowed out from behind the door.  
           When the smoke cleared, Harry and Holly looked into the room. It appeared to be totally empty. Well, not quite…  
           “A _book?”_ exclaimed Holly in disbelief.  
           Harry looked again and sure enough, in one corner there seemed to be the rectangular form of a book so covered over with dust and grime as to be virtually indistinguishable from the gray of rest of the vault.  
          Holly stepped inside the vault and picked it up. Using her shirt, she brushed the book off sending a cloud of gray dust into the air. Then Holly brought the book outside so she could examine it under the candlelight. Harry peered over her shoulder with interest. It was a fairly thin book and appeared to be a journal of some sort. The cover was solid gray in colour. Holly carefully opened it. The yellowed parchment papers within crinkled with age. Holly thumbed through the pages. They were blank. Holly handed the book to Harry. Harry took the book in his hands and studied it carefully. The gray cover had no noticeable markings nor did the book’s spine and Harry could see no writing at all within. Of course, the lighting was fairly bad but still…  
          “Why would anyone put a blank book in a vault?” Holly asked as Harry handed the book back to her.  
          “I don’t know,” he replied thoughtfully. “It must have some value.”  
          Holly slipped the book into her bag and turned to leave. Harry suddenly had a vision of another “empty” book slipped “innocently” into a child’s bag… “Perhaps,” he began tentatively, “it would be best to leave the book here until you knew more about it.”  
          “Oh?” asked Holly curiously pausing mid-step. “Why?”  
          “Ginny once found a blank journal amongst her things,” Harry said carefully. “Turned out the journal once belonged to a chap named Tom Riddle...”  
          Holly gulped. “Perhaps I should leave the book here,” she said and walked back into the vault. “I can always return to get it later,” she added while withdrawing it from her bag.  
          “So you can,” agreed Harry. He watched Holly place the book back in the corner where she had found it.  
          Holly rejoined Harry outside the vault. Griphook closed the vault door and the two of them got back into the cart. An icy blast of air blew out the candle and the cart started moving again. The cart took a new route wheeling its way uphill even faster than their descent. The wheels clattered loudly as they moved lurching back and forth at every turn. Peering though the darkness Harry thought he could see huge shadowy shapes moving besides the cart. Suddenly the cold cave air turned warm and stinky only to grow cold again when the cart turned and continued up. When the cart finally came to a stop at the surface they were next to a large wooden door illuminated by torches. Griphook got out of the cart and opened the door. He led Holly and Harry back into the main part of Gringotts.

********************

          “…but Dumbledore would never store something cursed would he?” asked Holly Wycliff as they left Gringotts.  
          “I wouldn’t think so,” agreed Cousin Harry while they walked. They stepped out from under the pillars into the afternoon sunlight. “But you never know… It might not even be Dumbledore’s vault. Someone else could have placed the book there…”  
          “True,” agreed Holly thoughtfully. “But who? And why?”  
          “Holly!!”  
           Holly was nearly knocked off balance by a huge hug from a familiar friend!  
          “Becky?” she exclaimed happily. “You’re al—” Holly stopped. “How are you?” she said instead. Holly didn’t know how to explain she had mourned her best friend’s death! Holly hadn’t mentioned that part to anyone, not even Cousin Harry.  
          “I’m fine!” exclaimed Becky. “How are you?” she added worriedly. “Especially after what happened this summer—”  
          “What happened this summer?” asked Mark Owens coming up behind Becky. A group of Hufflepuff classmates, Susan Breysburry, her sister Carrie, Lynette Huckaby, Hugh Douglass, Donald Wrezenski, and Mickey O’Toole, accompanied Mark. They all came up to greet Holly too.  
          Becky shot an almost guilty look towards Mark and Holly realized Becky hadn’t told anyone else about the second plaque… “Uh, dad didn’t want me returning to Hogwarts this year,” said Holly. “So I spent the summer looking at other schools. It was awful. But then he changed his mind …”  
          “Oh,” replied Mark. “That was fortunate.”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly. “Uh, how was your summer?” she asked changing the subject.  
          “Hey Holly,” interjected Susan before Mark had a chance to reply. “Check out my new tarantula!” And Susan shoved a small wooden cage with a huge grey tarantula inside under Holly’s nose.  
          “Uh, nice,” said Holly backing up a bit. She didn’t exactly share Susan’s love for insects.  
          “I can’t wait till we get on the train so I can let her go and roam a bit.”  
          “Hello, Mr. Potter,” chimed in Lynette with a singsongy voice. Lynette’s straight brown hair was tied into two pigtails this year. Lynette’s best friend was Carrie and Holly had spent a lot of time tutoring Lynette the previous year.  
          “Hello, Miss Huckaby,” replied Cousin Harry courteously. “How was your summer?”  
          “It was wonderful!” Lynette gushed in a dreamy voice. “Would you like to hear all about it?” Lynette had a bit of a crush on Cousin Harry last year and Holly could tell she hadn’t yet outgrown it.  
          “Ah, maybe later,” said Cousin Harry in a regretful tone. “I need to let my wife know I’m here…” Cousin Harry then looked at all the students surrounding Holly and took a deep breath. “Perhaps you would like to spend some time visiting with your friends,” he suggested turning to Holly.  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Holly.  
          “Here,” Cousin Harry added handing Holly some galleons to spend. “Stay together and have a good time. I’ll be at Bertie Botts.”  
          “Thanks,” said Holly pocketing the money. “See you later.” Holly and turned her attention to her friends as Cousin Harry vanished into the crowd.

********************

          “Seriously, how are you?” asked Becky in a worried voice with emotions to match.  
          “I’m fine!” assured Holly as a brightly robed wizard stepped right "through" a wizard wearing drab gray.  
          “You never wrote!” accused Becky. The "drab" wizard turned and walked into the nearby shop without bothering to first open the door.  
          “I did too!” protested Holly. Another wizard shuffled forward heedless of all the shoppers blocking his way. The shoppers seemed oblivious of his presence and he of theirs. Out of the corner of her eye Holly could just barely track the wizard's progress while he walked resolutely down the alley. Mostly, she saw patches of gray, an arm, the head, and legs that seemed to appear in the blank spaces between the many shoppers.  
          “Not much!” criticized Becky. “You just said you were “O.K.” and that was it! What kind of a letter is that?”  
          “What are you talking about?” asked Mark sensing there was more to Holly’s summer than visits to other boarding schools.  
          “Later,” assured Holly while looking around at all the people. A wizard family loaded down with parcels and a birdcage walked right through two wizards in gold and green robes “standing” on the curb. “It’s too public here.” Becky and Mark’s questioning subsided enabling Holly to turn her attention to the rest of the group.  
          “…and she’s so smart,” Susan was saying, “that I’m sure Caroline can learn lots of other tricks too!”  
          “Who’s Caroline?” asked Holly.  
          “My tarantula, silly,” replied Susan. “Weren’t you listening? Anyway I was thinking that maybe there are some nice boy tarantulas at Hogwarts she might like to meet…”  
          “There’s some big spiders in the forest, but I don’t think they are tarantulas…” said Mark thoughtfully.  
          “Speaking of tricks,” interrupted Mickey, “I heard there’s a whole new line of novelty snacks at Weasleys’. Let’s check them out!”  
          “O.K.,” agreed Hugh and the group set out for Weasleys’.

 ********************

          Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes Joke shop was packed with students, all eagerly searching out last minute items before school. Once inside the Hufflepuff group split up each heading towards their area of respective interests. Mickey, Donald and Hugh made a beeline towards the latest Animagus crackers—they caused one’s hands to sprout fur, scales or feathers depending upon the cracker eaten.   Lynette took Carrie off towards the line of romantic potions, notions and charms. Susan found the do-it-yourself designer critter cages, next to the leaping insect wrapping paper, glowworm nightlights and firefly lanterns. Mark, Becky and Holly drifted over to the supplemental school and educational supplies.  
          Holly was relieved that nobody seemed to overlap or walk "through" each other in the shop. That was probably because she hadn’t gone shopping while she was in Diagon Alley during the summer. Not that she minded all the extra stuff so much. It was kind of interesting watching people walk through each other and seeing how things overlapped. Holly had reached the point she could “watch” her memories without freezing up noticeably, provided it wasn’t one of the scary memories… If she didn’t fight them, the “remembering” did no harm and seemed to go on for much longer. Holly wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. She decided to worry about that later. At any rate, it was nice to browse without worrying about where she stepped or whether what she saw was actually real.  
          Holly bypassed the memory charms with a shutter; she'd had enough memory problems without them, but Becky lingered and looked at the charms wistfully.  
          “They won’t work during exams,” informed Mark bluntly when he noted her interest. Becky sighed and continued down the aisle. She picked up several spell-check quills instead. Holly renewed her supply of eraser quills and Mark found a copy of _What your Fifth Year should Know…_ He wasn’t a fifth year, of course, but Mark informed Holly he had already read the fourth year book during the summer.  
          “Hey Potter!” somebody shouted. Holly sighed trying to ignore the voice. The speaker was Tony Richards and he was clearly speaking to Holly. Despite the crowds, Holly knew none of the Potters were in the shop and the Richards brothers had a habit of calling Holly by the wrong last name. “I hear you were in the hospital this summer!” Tony continued in a loud nasty aggressive voice. He moved up closer accompanied by his friend Scorpius Malfoy. “What happened? You eat some meat?” He and Scorpius laughed knowing full well Holly had been unable to eat any meat last spring without getting sick.  
          “Oh, buzz off!” said Becky defensively. Mark moved up behind Becky. There was strength in numbers when dealing with Slytherins. And Tony, noting the other Hufflepuffs also approaching, laughed some more before he and Scorpius ambled off.  
          “What hospital?” hissed Becky to Holly. “You never said anything about a hospital!!!”  
          “What’s going on?” whispered Mark insistently. “What happened during the summer?”  
          “Later,” replied Holly. “Check this out!” she added and moved over to a huge display set prominently in front of the counter in an effort to change the subject. Becky and Mark followed. Holly could tell they were both upset, but Holly had no intention of explaining anything in the middle of a joke shop. She wasn’t even sure what she would say later on so she fingered the items for sale, stalling for time.  
          The display was labeled “Weasley Classics.” Beneath it were boxes of Extendable Ears, Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-bangs, and Skiving Snackboxes filled with an assortment of “treats” including Nosebleed Nougats, Puking Pastilles, and Fainting Fancies.  
          “Those were some of their first creations,” commented Mark following Holly’s lead to change subjects. Mark radiated hurt feelings and betrayal that had nothing to do with his words. “They were still in school at the time.”  
          “They?” asked Becky in a distracted voice. Her emotions were predominately worry and concern but probably not for the Weasleys.  
          “Twins!” replied Mark. “Inseparable and always in trouble, from the way mum tells it. But they were sure geniuses when it came to jokes!”  
          “That’s the truth,” added Susan listening in. “Dad said their business was booming when You-Know-Who took over the Ministry and not many people can say that. But there’s only one Weasley now,” she added regretfully. “I think the other died in the Battle for Hogwarts.”  
          “Did you know Mr. Weasley has only one ear?” asked Lynette. She had walked up with a basket full of Romance Daydream Charms and Love potions. Carrie’s basket was full of an assortment of wizard construction sets, colored self inking quills, and Beginning Wizard Art parchment—hold the paper up in the desired direction, and an outline of whatever is behind the paper would appear _on_ the paper. “I’ve seen it!” she added importantly. “Or rather where it should be. It’s an ugly black hole. That’s why Mr. Weasley always keeps his hair down long.”  
          “Why doesn’t he re-grow it?” asked Mark curiously.  
          “Can’t!” Lynette informed him. Then she lowered her voice and added, “It was cursed off by a _Death Eater!”_  
          “Really?" said Hugh, impressed. "Who did it?”  
          “Don’t you know?” put in Carrie. “Of course, you’re Muggle-born. You wouldn’t know. It was the Headmaster that did it!”  
          “No!” exclaimed Hugh in surprise.  
          “Which Headmaster!” asked Holly sharply with a sinking pit in her stomach; horribly certain she already knew the answer.  
          “The terrible one, of course!” said Lynette. “Snape!”  
          “No!” said Holly. “It can’t be!”  
          “Of course it was!” asserted Carrie blithely.  
          “Carrie!” said Susan in a warning voice.  
          “I heard everyone hated him!” continued Carrie heedless of Susan’s warning. “He hired other Death Eaters to teach and made the students use the _Cruciatus_ Curse as punishment!”  
          “Not to mention insisting all students had Blood Status before attending!” contributed Donald.  
          “Blood Status?” questioned Becky.  
          “Blood Status!” confirmed Donald. “You know, pure blood!”  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly horrified. “That’s not true!”  
          “Course it is!” said Lynette righteously while ignoring the “shussing” sounds made by Mark and Mickey. “He was Slytherin, you know. Pure Blood all the way. Couldn’t stand the sight of Muggle-borns. Sent the Muggle-born students to the Ministry and the Ministry shipped them off to Azkaban Prison!”  
          “You’re lying!” exclaimed Holly though she could tell from the emotions surrounding her that not only Lynette thought she was telling the truth but everyone else _believed_ her, too!  
          Holly broke away from the group and ran up to the counter. Mr. Weasley was taking some money and his sales clerk was bagging a purchase for a Ravenclaw family. “Your ear!” she said desperately while staring at Mr. Weasley’s thick long reddish gray hair. It was neatly tied with a red band and pulled to one side covering the area of his head where Holly now knew should have been an ear. “Who did it?”  
          “Snape,” he replied simply as he handed change to the family. At the mention of Snape’s name Holly felt such an outpouring of hatred emanating from Mr. Weasley, the clerk standing next to him, the Ravenclaw family and the other people standing in line waiting to make their purchases that she couldn’t bear it! Holly fled from the shop!  
          “Holly! Holly wait!” cried out Becky. But Holly ignored her and kept on running.

 *********************

          Holly ran on and on heedless of the people she ran “through,” veering to one side or the other only when she physically bumped into someone. Holly continued to run until, out of breath, she stumbled and fell.  
          “’ere Missy,” came a kindly voice. “Let me ‘elp you up.” And Holly felt a strange hand grasp hers and another gripped under her elbow pulling up, but the emotions behind the voice seemed less-than-kind. Holly broke easily away from the hands and continued to run some more. She finally came to a stop behind some trash in an empty alley. There, Holly curled up into a ball and cried.  
          After a long while the tears subsided but Holly remained curled preferring to hide away from the world.

********************

          “Hey,” came a familiar voice and Holly felt Sasha’s soft fur rub against her body. “I thought I told you to stay together.”  
          “I couldn’t,” said Holly sitting up instantly and reaching for Cousin Harry’s comforting arms. “The emotions,” she continued keeping her eyes closed as Sasha purred loudly and rubbed her body back and forth against her, “they were all so beastly!” Holly began to cry some more.  
          “Mmm,” murmured Cousin Harry gently. He dropped down to a more comfortable seated position and leaned against a barrel of garbage while holding Holly tight.  
          “They all hate him so!” Holly exclaimed through her tears. “Don’t they know? He wasn’t bad!”  
          “They know,” replied Cousin Harry softly. “I told them all. But knowing doesn’t change what people think. Even me,” he admitted.  
          “Did he really curse off that ear?” sobbed Holly.  
          “Yes,” replied Cousin Harry. “It was an accident… George knows that but I guess he still doesn’t think too kindly of Snape.”  
          “And the Muggle-born,” questioned Holly despairingly. “Did he send them off to Azkaban?”  
          “Probably not,” replied Cousin Harry thoughtfully. “If I recall, the Ministry was busy rounding up all the known Muggle born and mixed blood students _before_ school began. If they were still free, any Muggle born would not have been foolish enough to show up at Hogwarts that year.”  
          Holly gave a small sigh of relief. “I tried to call Becky,” she whispered, “this summer. But she wasn’t there. There weren’t _any_ Smiths in Sudbury! I-I think they were dead— _all of them!”_ she emphasized softly and Holly started crying for the Becky that wasn’t there.  
          “That would explain why you’ve been ignoring Becky,” said Cousin Harry gently. “She’s terribly worried, you know,” he added, “and very much alive.”  
          “I know,” sobbed Holly. “But I just don’t know how to face her—what to say!”  
          “The truth usually works,” began Cousin Harry. “You saved her life and she saved yours.”  
          “Huh?”  
          “How do you think we knew to find you?” explained Cousin Harry. “When your parents found the plaque your mum called the Smiths and they contacted us. Otherwise, we’d have never known, never gotten there in time…”    
          “Oh.”  
          “Why don’t you begin by thanking Becky,” suggested Cousin Harry. “After that I’m sure you’ll find the right words… Come on,” he added rising to his feet and pulling Holly up with him. “It’s late and we should be going.”

********************

          “Where are we?” asked Holly while looking around. The area was totally unfamiliar. She didn’t even see any overlaps either.  
          “We’re on Twitter Lane,” replied Cousin Harry.  
          “Oh,” said Holly none the wiser. She had never heard of Twitter Lane.  
          Cousin Harry started walking back out the alley and Holly followed. “It’s off Birdseye Trail,” Cousin Harry continued informatively, “which is off Wibberly Way, which connects to Gnusome Path, which connects to Perriton Track which in turn connects to Knockturn Alley.”  
          “Oh,” replied Holly still clueless.  
          “You turned off Diagon Alley at Knockturn Alley,” explained Cousin Harry.  
          “Oh. How did you happen to find me?” Holly asked as they walked.  
          “Mark and Becky lost you in Knockturn Alley,” replied Cousin Harry. “You apparently run pretty fast,” he added as an aside and Holly flushed self-consciously. “They would have kept looking for you,” continued Cousin Harry, “but Knockturn Alley is a rather seedy neighborhood and they decided it might be better to go for help first. It’s kind of a maze back here, you know.”  
          “So how did you locate me?” asked Holly curiously.  
          “Mark managed to scoop up Sasha when you left,” replied Cousin Harry. “He and Becky bought her to me. I asked Sasha to find you…”  
          “That was good of them,” replied Holly. “I guess I owe them a lot.”  
          “Friends don’t keep count,” assured Cousin Harry, “but you _do_ owe them an explanation.”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly. “I do.”  
          The two continued walking from one grimy lane/alley to the next with Sasha leading the way. Some were really narrow and scarcely a block in length. “Keep close,” instructed Cousin Harry when they turned onto Knockturn Alley. It was wider and larger and crowded with people in gray and black robes. They all instantly noted Holly and Cousin Harry’s arrival with interest greeting it with open suspicion and distrust. As the emotions changed to include hatred and calculating greed Holly clutched Cousin Harry’s arm for more security. This was definitely not a nice neighborhood.  
          A row of what appeared to be shrunken heads peered balefully at Holly from inside one of the shops while another displayed several cages filled with live venomous animals: vipers, cobras, scorpions, spiders, ants... Holly made a mental note to _not_ tell Susan about the place—Susan would head straight here to check out the insects. She wouldn’t care about the sinister neighborhood or the venomous part. A third shop seemed to carry various potions—all with sinister looking skulls adorning the unnamed bottles.  
**“But Paige, I _need_ you!” **shouted a familiar voice from in front. Both Holly and Cousin Harry stopped and looked. Ahead stood Tom Richards and Paige Crowley in heated conversation.  
          “And I _need_ a man!” replied Paige coolly. “A _real_ man!”  
          “Ouch!” murmured Cousin Harry to Holly. Paige looked calm and unperturbed as she faced Tom Richards. Her hunter green robe trimmed in gold draped elegantly over her willowy body. Her long black hair was parted in the middle and hung loose down her back with not a single strand out of place. In contrast, Richard’s face was flushed red, his sandy hair wildly askew; his robe-less outfit looked wrinkled and dirty.  
          “You can’t do this to me!” insisted Tom; his whole body shook with emotion.  
          “I can do as I please,” replied Paige icily. “Good-bye!” Paige’s green robes swirled as she turned her back on Tom.  
_“NO!”_ came Tom’s anguished cry. But it went unheard. Paige had Apparated.  
_“BOOM!”_ Tom had drawn his wand and had sent a spell blasting the area where Paige had stood. People scattered. Buildings rattled sending showers of dust to the ground; windows shook. The whole alley reverberated!  
          “’ERE NOW!” came a voice from somewhere. “WATCH WOT YER DOIN’!”  
          “BLASTIN’ US WON’T GET ‘ER BACK!” came another voice.  
          Tom looked guiltily around suddenly noticing all the other people in the alley, people watching. He turned uncertainly as if wondering what to do next. Then he fixed his bleary eyes on Holly and staggered forward purposefully. “What are you looking at?” Richards demanded angrily while pointing his wand aggressively at Holly. He radiated hurt, rage and frustration.  
          In a swift fluid motion, Cousin Harry pulled Holly behind him as he stepped forward to face Richards. "She is looking at nothing,” Cousin Harry replied in a calm even voice. And in truth, Holly couldn’t see a thing from behind Cousin Harry’s back. She would have shifted her position for a view but Cousin Harry’s hand kept her firmly in place.  
          There was a long period of silence and then Holly heard Richards take a shuffling step and then another. “Potters!” she heard Richards mutter darkly as he passed. Holly and Harry turned and stood together quietly watching Richards round the corner.  
          “He wouldn’t have hurt me,” Holly assured Cousin Harry when Richards had vanished from sight. “He’s had too much butterbeer to even aim straight.” Holly recognized the symptoms easily, especially after her time with Sirius Black.  
           “Perhaps,” agreed Cousin Harry as he pocketed his wand. Holly hadn’t even seen him draw it! “But I doubt it would do Richards’ self esteem any good should word get around he was bested by a second year, uh third year,” he corrected himself.  
          “You’re probably right,” laughed Holly. “But you weren’t thinking of that earlier!” she observed thoughtfully. “You were being pure protective—like Sirius! Thanks!” she added.  
          “Mmm,” acknowledged Cousin Harry; he put his arm on Holly’s shoulder affectionately and the two resumed walking. Holly could feel a sense of pride radiate from Cousin Harry. She walked happily in Cousin Harry’s embrace pleased at the effect of her words.

********************

          Abruptly the warm fuzzy feelings Holly had been basking in changed to something cold and distant. Surprised, Holly looked up and around to see the source.  
          Heading in their direction was a stout squat elderly lady with short curly brown-gray hair. She wore a pink business suit and carried a matching pink purse in her stubby hands. The lady had on a pink Alice band trimmed with a pink bow on top and wore matching pink shoes each decorated with a pink bow. There was a smile on her broad flabby face.  
           The lady’s firm brisk step took her directly in Holly and Cousin Harry’s path. Without a word Cousin Harry pulled Holly to one side veering out of the lady’s way. But the lady immediately changed her direction while continuing to march forward until she was directly in front of Holly and Cousin Harry. Then the lady stopped forcing Cousin Harry and Holly to stop as well.  
           “Doing some last minute shopping, Mr. Potter?” said the lady in a girlish high-pitched voice. Her round eyes dropped down and looked at Holly as if noticing her for the first time. “This can’t be one of yours,” she added in a tone of disbelief. “I thought your girl was younger.” Cousin Harry did not reply and the lady stared at Holly from head to toe with her wide eyes. “I know,” she said triumphantly, “this must be that talented cousin of yours everyone keeps talking about!” and she smiled again seeming positively delighted to see Holly. “Well?” the lady demanded impatiently, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”  
          “Holly,” began Cousin Harry. His low voice had none of its usual warmth. “This is Dolores Umbridge…”  
          “Senior Undersecretary at Large,” added the lady proudly as she stuck her hand out to Holly.  
          “Pleased to meet you,” Holly said courteously while looking directly in Witch Umbridge’s eyes. Holly had a sudden image of another wizard, a security wizard in a train station whose black eyes she had once looked into. Holly forced herself to ignore the other wizard with his black hat and purposefully looked down instead focusing her attention totally on the hand in front of her. The fat stubby fingers were filled with gaudy rings. Holly took hold of the ring filled fingers and carefully shook the hand.  
          “My!” said Witch Umbridge with a pleased sounding voice and emotions to match. She gave Holly’s hand a firm squeeze that pinched due to all the rings. “You’re so courteous! Did you learn that from your parents?” she asked while releasing Holly’s hand.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly politely venturing to look up a bit. Witch Umbridge still had a smile on her flabby face.  
          “Excellent,” replied Witch Umbridge smiling even wider revealing a set of sharp pointy teeth. “I knew you couldn’t have learned it from the Potters!”  
          “What?” Holly asked in disbelief while looking up at Witch Umbridge. Cousin Harry had always been the epitome of courtesy around her family and friends.  
          “It’s true!” Witch Umbridge stated with a sudden serious look on her face. Her round eyes regarded Holly intently while she spoke. “The Potters are notorious for poor manners. Mr. Potter served numerous detentions for lying and discourtesy. He even got banned from playing quidditch because of fighting.” Cousin Harry’s hand on Holly’s shoulder became a firm grip and his emotions became noticeably colder. “In fact,” Witch Umbridge added with a sorrowful look, “it’s a pity your father chose Harry Potter as your guardian. I mean, I know he’s a relative and all, but it’s no secret Mr. Potter and your father were never very close and there are numerous other wizards of _much_ better character your father could select for such an important responsibility.”  
          “Excuse me?” asked Holly blankly. She had never heard anyone say such things about Cousin Harry!  
          Witch Umbridge gave a little throat-clearing cough _(“hem, hem”_ ) before resuming. “Your guardianship!” she said explaining. “Frankly,” Witch Umbridge added in an authoritative tone, “Mr. Potter has a rather shady background. He is a bank thief known to have associated with werewolves and mass murderers.” Cousin Harry’s emotions turned icy; his grip on Holly’s shoulder tightened. “Your parents could do much better than that,” continued Witch Umbridge. “Of course, I’m sure had your parents known, they would have selected someone else. They’d worry about the kind of influence someone like Mr. Potter might provide. After all, what _respectable_ wizard would take a young lady shopping in Knockturn Alley?”  
          Witch Umbridge frowned and looked up accusingly at Cousin Harry. Holly ventured a look at Cousin Harry too. Cousin’s Harry’s face was white and stony; his emotions were positively glacial and the trembling fingers on Holly’s shoulder dug deeper.  
          Then Witch Umbridge looked down again at Holly and smiled widely. Her pointy teeth reminded Holly of a shark on the hunt! “It is fortunate for your parents that you are in Hufflepuff,” Witch Umbridge continued with total sincerity. “It reduces your contact with the Potter children, who, if I understand correctly, have already been in and out of detention and have openly disrupted the school with wild delusions.” Cousin Harry’s emotions seethed wildly and his fingers dug so deep into Holly that she fought to keep her pain from showing! “Unlike the Gryffindors,” continued Witch Umbridge sweetly, “Hufflepuff students tend to be stable and hard working, not given to wild fantasies or discipline problems.” Witch Umbridge’s bulging eyes watched Cousin Harry closely as she spoke.  
          “There’s nothing wrong with the Potters!” Holly finally managed to sputter. The grip on her shoulder released suddenly and Holly felt instant guilt and regret as if Cousin Harry noticed for the first time what he had been doing.  
          “Of course you would say that,” agreed Witch Umbridge smoothly, “but what else could you say with Mr. Potter standing besides you?” She looked at Holly and beamed a smile so wide it threatened to split her face. “However,” Witch Umbridge continued in a honeyed voice, “should your parents ever decide to seek someone of _better_ moral character, feel free to call upon me for assistance.”  
          “We have to be going,” said Cousin Harry in a low voice; his emotions again felt whispery and distant but Holly could still feel their blackness.  
          “Of course!” agreed Witch Umbridge with a wide smile. “Shopping can be so time consuming.” She gave a little girlish giggle and cleared her throat _(“hem, hem.”_ ) “It’s been so good to meet you at last, Miss Wycliff,” she said delightedly. “Do keep in mind what I said.” With that, Witch Umbridge strode purposefully off.

********************

          It took a long time for Witch Umbridge to walk out of sight. The other people of Knockturn Alley parted swiftly on either side to let her pass unimpeded and remained on the sides afterwards.  
          “How could you let her talk like that!” exploded Holly when the witch finally turned a corner.  
          “How could I not?” replied Cousin Harry bleakly.  
          “But those horrible things she said!” insisted Holly indignantly.  
          “And unfortunately, in their own way, they were all true.”  
          “But she twisted things so!” stormed Holly.  
          “She was expressing an opinion,” stated Cousin Harry softly. He turned and started walking again. Holly followed. “Disputing her words would only give them more weight,” Cousin Harry explained. “I will not give her that satisfaction!” he added grimly. They walked together a few steps in silence.    
          Finally Cousin Harry spoke again, “That was a pretty cold send off between Crowley and Richards,” he said changing the subject. “Did she really mean it?”  
          “I don’t know,” answered Holly while keeping alongside. They wove in and out between the people. “There were too many emotions and she was too far away. Besides, I can’t read Paige. It’s like she doesn’t have any emotions.”  
          “Pity,” replied Cousin Harry. They turned onto Diagon Alley. “Richards was really upset. What about Umbridge? Can you read her?”  
          “Well, yes and no,” replied Holly thoughtfully. “I could read her, but her emotions didn’t make any sense…”  
          “Oh? May I ask what you read?”  
          “Happiness,” replied Holly. “Pure happiness!”  
          “Figures,” said Cousin Harry gloomily. “I would appreciate it if you kept your distance from Umbridge,” he added softly. “I don’t think she means you any good.”  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Holly with an involuntary shiver. She wanted nothing to do with Witch Umbridge. She never thought someone so happy could feel so disturbing at the same time! “Sir,” asked Holly suddenly, “should I watch for her like Rita?” Holly knew Rita Skeeter was an Animagus beetle and could easily hide anywhere…  
          “Rita?” questioned Cousin Harry. “Ah, no, I don’t believe so,” he began, “I wouldn’t think Umbridge would ever—but I don’t know for sure,” he finally confessed.  
          “Oh.” They continued walking. Along the way Holly saw various people “walk” into and through each other.  
          “Sorry about the shoulder,” Cousin Harry said after a while. “I was a bit distracted…”  
          “And then some!” agreed Holly heartily. She was certain she would end up with some bruises from the experience. “You know,” Holly mused while rubbing her shoulder, “I think you dislike Witch Umbridge more than you hate my dad.”  
          “I do believe you’re right,” agreed Cousin Harry.

 


	12. Chapter 12

          “I’m so sorry!” whispered Becky tearfully in Holly’s ear when they got to Bertie Botts. “They were first years,” she added as justification. “They didn’t know he saved your life!”  
          “Or about this summer!” added Mark meaningfully. From his tone, Holly guessed Becky had had a bit of a discussion with Mark in her absence. Mark was clearly not too happy about being left out of the loop, so to speak. “But you can bet Susan and Marcy will be having long talks with their sisters about when to say things and to whom!” Marcy was Lynette’s big sister.  
          “In their defense,” added Mark hesitantly. “He didn’t seem all that nice of a guy.” There was no need to explain who “he” was. “He’s mentioned in the Hogwarts history books,” Mark explained. “Even if you discount the obvious bias of the author, it’s pretty clear the Headmaster did some things that didn’t set well with the rest of the wizard community… His actions probably kept him in good standing with You-Know-Who,” Mark added, “but nobody else!”  
          “I know,” acknowledged Holly with a sigh. “Richards was casually using the _Cruciatus Curse_ as punishment and all the students were kind of afraid when they looked at the Headmaster.” Holly was remembering her first experience two years earlier. “I just didn’t expect such… _hatred_ …when his name was mentioned here…”  
          “No,” corrected Mark sternly. “I don’t think you do know. Severus Snape apparently did something bad, _really_ bad, before he became Headmaster.” Mark swallowed uncomfortably. “I expect I should tell you so it doesn’t take you by surprise some other time.”  
          “What?” asked Becky breathlessly.  
          Mark swallowed again and looked over at Cousin Harry sitting at a back table sipping a rainbow soda. The moment Holly had seen Becky and Mark, Cousin Harry had slowed and urged her to go ahead and greet her friends privately. Since then he had kept his distance, giving them the opportunity to talk together. Mark looked back at Holly uncertainly. “O.K.,” he said with determination, “Here goes,” Mark took a deep breath and moved up closer to Becky and Holly. “Severus Snape,” he began in a whisper, “is credited for having killed Albus Dumbledore!”  
          “No!” exclaimed Becky.  
          Holly stared at Mark stunned! She had always connected the death of Albus Dumbledore with the painting in the Great Hall. The painting showed Albus Dumbledore standing valiantly but hopelessly against both Lord Voldemort and Tom Riddle. But that was the _other_ Great Hall!   It couldn’t have happened that way here, not for real, not with Tom Riddle dead at the time.  
          “It can’t be!” Holly whispered in disbelief. “Headmaster Snape was working for Dumbledore! I know he was!”  
          “That’s what you’ve always said,” agreed Mark in a low voice. “And there is a tiny line in the book to that effect, but here’s the thing,” Mark again looked fearfully over at Cousin Harry before turning and speaking. “It was Harry Potter who claimed Severus Snape killed Dumbledore! And he’s never said otherwise—ever! Even after he said Severus Snape was working for Dumbledore!”  
          Holly closed her eyes, her mind in a whirl. Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be like, the greatest wizard ever! It was inconceivable to think that the headmaster she knew could have struck down such a person or would have, for that matter. But that meant Cousin Harry was lying! Why would he do such a thing? Holly opened her eyes. She fixed them on Cousin Harry. He had just finished his soda and was regarding the trio thoughtfully. As in a daze, Holly made her way forward coming to a stop in front of Cousin Harry. He looked up questioningly at her arrival.  
          “Did Headmaster Snape kill Albus Dumbledore?” Holly asked bluntly. At her words, all of Bertie Botts went deathly quiet.  
          “Yes,” said Cousin Harry, meeting his green eyes on hers, his quiet voice easily heard in the silence.  
          “But he was helping Dumbledore…”  
          “Yes,” came the equally firm response. Cousin Harry’s green eyes never left Holly’s.  
          “Why would he do that?” demanded Holly.  
          Cousin Harry placed some coins on the table and stood up. “Thank you for waiting,” he told Becky and Mark calmly. “We have to be leaving now. Would you like to join us while we walk out or do you have other shopping to do?”  
          “Well,” began Mark uncertainly. “I guess—”  
          “Why?” persisted Holly. “I need to know—”  
          _“NO!”_ retorted Cousin Harry sharply turning back to Holly, his green eyes blazing. “You _don’t_ need to know! Not now, not ever!”  
          Holly could feel Cousin Harry’s sudden anger like a wall in front of her but Holly stood her ground determined to get an answer. This was important to her.  
          “H-Holly,” came Becky’s trembling voice from behind her. Becky placed a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “The people…”  
          For the first time, Holly looked around. Everyone in Bertie Botts was looking at them: watching, waiting and intensely curious.  
          “Mi-Mister Potter,” said Becky and Holly could tell she was incredibly afraid as she spoke. “I’d, ah, like your company back to the Leaky Cauldron. It’s where I’m staying tonight…”  
          “Me, too,” chimed in Mark. “We could all go there together…”  
          Without a word, Cousin Harry backed away from the table.  
          “Come on,” urged Becky whispering in Holly’s ear. Holly permitted Becky to move her out of Bertie Botts. The four walked silently down the alley. They weren’t exactly walking together, but close enough to appear as a group to someone not aware of the rift.  
          Cousin Harry was no longer a wall of anger by the time they reached the Alley entrance and Holly was able to think past her desire for answers. She knew Cousin Harry was a private person. Holly realized he would never answer a question like that at Bertie Botts. She would try again later, when they were alone…  
          “I believe this is where we part company,” said Cousin Harry gravely to Mark and Becky after they had exited Diagon Alley were back in the Leaky Cauldron. “Thank you for joining us.”  
          “Are you going to be O.K.?” Mark asked looking directly at Holly. Holly could feel intense worry from both Becky and Mark.  
          “Yes,” said Holly glancing up at Cousin Harry. “We’re O.K. now,” she assured them. “I’ll be all right.”

********************

          Holly and Cousin Harry stepped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “Where’s the rest of your family?” asked Holly. She suddenly realized that they hadn’t been at Bertie Botts and she hadn’t seen them all day. “I asked them to return home without me,” said Cousin Harry quietly. “I didn’t know how long it would take to find you.”  
          “Oh.” And Holly flushed guiltily remembering how she had run and why. It seemed so trivial compared to what she had learned afterwards.  
          “I’m going to make arrangements for you to spend the night with the Weasleys,” he added.  
          “What?” asked Holly looking up at Cousin Harry in surprise.  
          “Or, if you prefer,” Cousin Harry added swiftly, “you could spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron with Becky and Mark, if his parents are willing… I could arrange for the meals to be brought to your room…”  
          “Is this because I asked about Dumbledore?” asked Holly bluntly.  
          “No, Holly,” Cousin Harry replied softly.  
          “Then why?”  
          Cousin Harry sighed and looked away. “You’ve been “remembering” again,” he stated. “Not once, but a lot!” he added. “Don’t bother trying to deny it, I know the signs.” Holly shifted uncomfortably unwilling to confirm but unable to deny his assessment. “Now, it’s pretty clear to me that one trigger for such “rememberings” is revisiting the places you saw this summer.” Cousin Harry turned his head and fixed his eyes upon Holly, “You and I both know where you went after Diagon Alley… You’ve had a long day, Holly, and a difficult one. It wouldn’t be right to take you to my house—not knowing what may happen. You deserve a decent night sleep before starting school.”  
          Holly looked away. Several autos passed. Sasha wound herself back and forth between Holly’s legs purring softly.  
          “Well?” asked Cousin Harry softly. “Where would you like to stay?”  
          “Please, sir,” whispered Holly keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead. “I would like to go to Grimmauld Place.”  
          “That wasn’t one of your options,” replied Cousin Harry bluntly.  
          “I know I’ll probably “remember” things,” Holly added, “but I still want to go.”  
          “It’s not a good idea,” he told her. “You don’t know what will happen.”  
          “I would rather find out for sure, sir,” replied Holly, “ _now_ and not later.” Holly looked up at Cousin Harry. “It might not be so bad,” she added pleadingly, “Sirius wasn’t scary.” Cousin Harry didn’t answer. Holly could sense his disapproval so she tried again. “I told my father that I needed to see Hogwarts again, to make sure it’s there,” she began softly. “But that wasn’t the only place I needed to see. I needed to see Gringotts, too, and touch its white pillars— _white_ , not red. And I _need_ to see your house. I need to see for myself that everything is as it should be, as I remember from before—from before this summer,” Holly amended. “Please,” she begged. “It’s only for one night; I’ve got to know!”  
          “I don’t like this,” said Cousin Harry worriedly.  
          “I don’t have to spend the night,” compromised Holly, “I just need to go there and see it all for myself. If, if it’s really bad,” Holly added hesitantly, “then you can send me to the Weasleys. O.K.?”  
          Cousin Harry regarded her thoughtfully for several minutes. Finally he nodded. “Very well,” said Cousin Harry with a sigh. “We shall go to Grimmauld Place. You can look around and then we’ll see.” He pulled out a small business card. “Stan?” he said into the card. “We’re ready…”

********************

          “Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Cousin Harry. They were standing on the curb in front of the gap between number 11 and 13 Grimmauld place. The sound of the taxi was receding in the distance as Stan raced off to pick up his next passenger.  
          “I’m sure,” said Holly quietly. Grimmauld Place looked as it had during the summer. It looked as it had last year and the year before.  
          “Then I think you should do the honors,” said Cousin Harry meaning Holly should make the house appear.  
          “Yes sir,” replied Holly. She closed her eyes remembering the spell. _“Sirius Black’s house may be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”_ Holly waited and then opened her eyes. Nothing happened. Holly smiled. That was as it should be. It wasn’t Sirius Black’s house any more… She just had to make sure.  
          Holly closed her eyes again and reworded the spell. _“Harry Potter’s house may be found at Number 12 Grimmauld Place_.” Holly kept her eyes closed a very long time. When she opened them, an additional house was squished in between the numbers 11 and 13: number 12!  
          Holly smiled again. It was Cousin Harry’s home now. Then she gulped and gave a small sob. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?” she asked sorrowfully.  
          “Yes,” replied Cousin Harry softly and Holly could feel his grief at the loss.  
          Holly turned and hugged Cousin Harry. “I tried to go,” she whispered.  
          “What?”  
          “I tried to go when I realized that Sirius would die if he helped me. But he wouldn’t let me. He said he would gladly give his life to save yours.”  
          “He did,” acknowledged Cousin Harry. “But he shouldn’t have died.” Holly felt guilt, shame and sorrow as he spoke. She hugged Cousin Harry again not knowing what else to do.  
          Presently, Cousin Harry spoke, “Are you ready to go inside?”  
          “Yes, sir, I think so,” replied Holly.  
          “Shall we?”  
          And the two walked up the steps to number twelve Grimmauld Place. When they reached the top, Cousin Harry reached out with his wand and tapped the door gently. In her mind, Holly could hear the louder rap of the doorknocker, which she had to use so persistently last time.  
           “Is everything all right?” Ginny Potter’s head broke eerily through the unsteadier image of Sirius Black standing in the doorway. Ginny was shorter than Sirius. “You were just standing there!” Ginny continued. Holly closed her eyes shutting out the image of bleary eyes and dirty tangled gray hair above Ginny’s head.  
          “We’re fine,” came Cousin Harry’s voice. He took Holly’s hand and gently pulled her through the doorway. After taking a few steps, Holly cautiously opened her eyes again. This time she only saw Ginny with a worried expression on her face and emotions to match. The entryway was gloomy and dark. But then it always had been. Holly knew that Mrs. Black, the angry lady behind the curtained portrait hanging in the entryway, would scream profanities if it weren’t.  
          “George sent word there was some argument at Bertie Botts!”  
          “A minor misunderstanding,” said Cousin Harry smoothly not elaborating. He gave Ginny a quick hug. “Where is everyone?” he asked.  
          “In the living room,” Ginny replied. “Hello, Holly,” she added warmly. “How are you?”  
          “Fine,” said Holly automatically. Ginny looked great! There was a spark and energy about her that hadn’t been there last year.  
          “Holly!” squealed Lily and Holly felt herself almost knocked over by an enthusiastic hug. “You’re here!” Lily exclaimed happily. “I’ve been waiting ever so long for you to come!”  
          “Have you?” asked Holly. It had been a year since she had last seen Lily and Lily had grown considerably during that time.  
          “Uh-huh!” assured Lily. “Come on!” And taking Holly’s hand in hers, Lily dragged Holly out of the entryway and off into the living room. The living room was brightly lit and filled with comfy furniture. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace. Both James and Albus were seated comfortably. Albus appeared to be sorting school supplies and James was thumbing through a thick book.  
          “Hello, Cuz,” said James warmly while not actually looking up from his book. There was a stack of books next to his chair, presumably for the classes he would be taking.  
          “Hi!” acknowledged Holly quickly in passing as Lily dragged her forward.  
          “Look!” announced Lily proudly while pointing to a pile of discarded wrapping paper. “I’ve a kitten!!!” A small white head poked up from the midst of the paper and two bright blue eyes regarded Holly thoughtfully. Sasha raced up, coming to a stop in front of the kitten and the two touched noses. The kitten daintily stretched a paw out gently touching Sasha. Then the paw lowered and stirred the wrappings nearby. Sasha’s tail twitched and suddenly she leaped into the air and burrowed into the papers and string! The new kitten, which appeared to be all white, followed. Soon the neat pile of wrappings scattered across the floor eagerly pursued by the cats!  
          “She’s beautiful!” exclaimed Holly regarding the snowy white kitten playing amongst the papers. “Have you named her yet?”  
          “Uh huh!” said Lily. “It’s Sapphire—for those deep blue eyes!”  
          “That’s a very nice name,” agreed Holly as she watched the two cats play.  
          “Want to see my new wand?” Lily asked holding out a long thin box. Holly took it and lifted the cover. Inside laid a slender wand, pale in color, slightly curved, with a single tendril and three leaves carved along its base.  
          “Ash and Dragon!” informed Lily proudly. “And it feels so good! Mum and dad took me shopping last week just to get it! We got Saph then, too,” she added as Holly handed back the wand, “so she’d have a chance to adjust to the family before we left for school.” Lily put the wand safely with her things.  
          “Hey, Holly!” said Albus looking up. “Check this out!” He tossed a slender book to Holly. Holly caught it easily and looked at the cover. The cover showed a steaming cauldron resting over a flickering fire; a wooden spoon stirred the contents of the cauldron causing the steam to ripple as it rose. The title of the book read:

_Magical Drafts and Potions,_  
 _Revised by the Half Blood Prince!_

          For a moment Holly stared blankly at the cover and then remembered last year’s potions contest. It seemed ages ago. “You did it!” she said warmly. Albus and Rose had gone to considerable effort to translate some burnt up potions books containing the revisions written by someone who called himself the Half Blood Prince. The two insisted the revisions be reprinted in the next potions book giving full credit to the mysterious Half Blood Prince, whomever he might be.  
          “That’s terrific!” exclaimed Holly while she thumbed through the pages. She noted several potion titles bore a bright green subheading: “Half-Blood Prince revision.” “What about the other book?” Holly asked remembering they had found two books filled with revisions.  
          “They say they’re still testing and translating,” said Albus. “But they think they may finish it in time for use in school next year!”  
          “Wow!”  
          “We’re still hanging onto the originals in case they try to change their mind,” added Albus, “but I don’t think they will. Professor Slughorn decided to use the first book in his beginning classes and I heard it’s been selling like hotcakes! They’ll stick to our deal if they think it’ll make them a profit.”  
          “Which it will!” assured Holly handing back the book.  
          Albus smiled and he ran his hand fondly over the cover of the book causing the wooden spoon to “stir” faster. “Vernon get his ring?” he asked changing the subject.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly. “What’s it do?” she asked curiously.  
          “You’ll have to ask him,” replied Albus vaguely. “Dad didn’t want to give the ring back to Vernon because we had messed with it, but I told him it was important to Vernon, _really_ important.”  
           “It was,” agreed Holly remembering how upset Vernon had been when he thought the ring wouldn’t work. “Thanks for helping him.”  
           “No problem. Your stuff is all packed and ready to go, by the way,” added Albus pointing to a medium sized trunk sitting in one corner of the room. “We didn’t know when you’d get here.”  
          “Thanks,” said Holly looking at the trunk and wondering what was inside.  
          “There’s an extra notebook in there for you, too,” added James. “I overheard dad mention to mum you were going to need one. And when Becky came in and said you’d run off, we weren’t sure you’d remember to get it.”  
          “Uh, thanks,” said Holly self-consciously. She had forgotten about the notebook and didn’t like remembering why it was needed.  
          “I picked it out,” contributed Lily. “I hope you like it.”  
          “I’m sure I will,” assured Holly glad no one had asked why she needed it.  
          “You O.K.?” asked James looking at her keenly with his brown eyes.  
          “Anyone still hungry?” announced a cheerful voice before Holly could reply. Ginny and Cousin Harry had come into the room. Ginny was carrying a tray filled with biscuits and hot cocoa. Cousin Harry carried a smaller tray filled with sandwiches.  
          “It occurred to me that we kind of missed a meal or two this afternoon,” said Cousin Harry pleasantly as he set the tray down on a coffee table. He picked up one of the sandwiches for himself, sat down in an empty chair and began to eat.  
          Without giving it a thought, Holly reached over and grabbed a sandwich. The mention of food made her realize that she was ravenous. She bit into the sandwich and then looked up at Cousin Harry in surprise.  
          “Egg salad,” he confirmed. “No point in pushing things,” he added mildly.  
          Holly nodded. “Thanks,” she said taking another bite. Cousin Harry was right. There had been enough “rememberings” during the day without deliberately trying to conjure up images of Wizard Flint just to eat.  
          “Hey dad,” said Albus while Holly ate. “Have you seen the new book?”  
          “In the windows,” replied Cousin Harry between bites, “but not up close.”  
          “It looks really good!” said Albus proudly and he brought the book to him for a closer inspection. Cousin Harry quickly shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, wiped off his hands and took the book. He opened it stopping at the first page. He didn’t say anything but Holly saw a small smile play on his lips and felt a sense of satisfaction surround Cousin Harry as he read. The satisfaction remained as he started turning the pages one by one.  
          Holly finished the first sandwich and half of a second before she decided to sample the hot cocoa and biscuits. When she finished the cocoa Ginny decided it was time for everyone to go upstairs and get ready for bed.  
          “Come along,” she said rising and collecting the trays and empty cups. Holly obligingly got up and helped Lily collect the papers scattered by their two cats. Then she followed the others into the entryway and stopped.  
          “What is it?” asked Ginny with concern while Lily, Albus and James headed up the stairs.  
          “I, uh, forgot something,” replied Holly vaguely. “I’ll be up shortly.”  
          “O.K.,” said Ginny. “I’ll meet you upstairs later.” And she continued down the hall towards the kitchen.  
          Holly walked slowly back to the living room. Cousin Harry was still seated in the chair reading the potions book, Holly knew he felt relaxed and satisfied; he was no longer mad or angry. Moreover, Holly knew that the half Blood Prince was actually Headmaster Snape. Rose had told her so last year. So the positive feelings Holly had from Cousin Harry were probably about the Headmaster. There would be no better opportunity to ask Cousin Harry again about what happened…  
          “Mr. Potter,” she began hesitantly.  
          “Yes?” he answered looking up from the book.  
          “I’m sorry about what I said earlier at Bertie Botts. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”  
          Cousin Harry closed his book and sighed. “That’s O.K., Holly,” he replied quietly. “It’s easy to forget you are still new to the wizard world and don’t know what is … common knowledge to others. But that is no excuse for my response. I shouldn’t have snapped so.”  
          “Sir? The Headmaster—” began Holly in a rush. “He was working for Dumbledore. It’s inconceivable that he should have—I can’t believe he would have done such a thing… Couldn’t you be mistaken?” Holly’s voice ended in a pleading tone.  
          “No, Holly,” said Cousin Harry firmly. He looked directly into Holly’s eyes as he spoke. “I was there.” And though there was no change in his expression, Holly felt a sudden rush of rage and anger so strong she knew he must be reliving some experience too horrible to mention. There was no doubt in Cousin Harry’s mind that Headmaster Snape had killed Dumbledore.  
          “But,” she sobbed. “I’ve felt his emotions. He’s so kind and gentle! He’s the hero in my dreams! Why would he do such a thing?”  
          The raging anger within Cousin Harry faded and Holly only felt intense sorrow and sadness. “You know now pretty much the worst Sna—Headmaster Snape has done, Holly,” began Cousin Harry. “Have your feelings for him changed any?”  
          “N-no, sir,” replied Holly wiping away the tears that streamed down her face.  
          “Then knowing “why” is of no importance. It won’t affect your thinking at all. He wasn’t perfect, Holly. No one is. But he saved your life twice! That’s what’s important. You’ll have to be content with that. Please don’t ask me again.”  
          “Y-yes, sir,” whispered Holly. She turned and walked out of the room.

 ********************

          Holly walked sadly up the stairs to her room. Cousin Harry had been resolute in his response. Holly was certain he knew why, but would never explain, the circumstances surrounding Dumbledore’s death. She sighed sorrowfully as she rounded the corner and entered the hallway at the top of the steps. Holly knew Cousin Harry was not in the habit of talking about his past, but this was the first time she had been on the receiving end of his silence and it hurt—a lot.  
          “Is that the lovely Miss Wycliff I spy walking down the hall?” came a high thin reedy voice.  
          Holly stopped and turned. “Mr. Black!” she exclaimed her spirits immediately lifting. “You’re here!”  
          “Of course I am!” said the thin man with grey-black hair, a pointed beard and thin black eyebrows in the portrait. “Where else would I be?”  
          “Um,” began Holly trying to remember what Sirius Black had said, “in the Dining Room over the fireplace?”  
          Mr. Black laughed. “Whatever made you think that? I’ve never been there!”  
          “It was just something I heard this summer,” said Holly vaguely.  
          “Now, who would be telling you stories about me?” questioned Mr. Black good-naturedly.  
          “No, one,” said Holly suddenly sober. “No one alive.” She felt sad again. Sirius Black was long gone, but not to her.  
          “What’s wrong?” asked Mr. Black noting Holly’s change in expression.  
          “Oh, nothing,” Holly sighed. “I was just thinking of someone who’s died… Mr. Black,” she suddenly asked with renewed hope. “Is there a portrait of the last owner of this house, Sirius Black?”  
          “No, dear,” replied Mr. Black kindly.  
          “So that means it’s only the Headmaster…”  
          “You mean of the one you say you “know” but “don’t really?” asked Mr. Black evidently remembering their conversation of last year…  
          “Yes,” whispered Holly sorrowfully. “And it isn’t fair!” she protested. “He’s saved my life twice now and I can’t even tell him “thank-you!”  
          “Hmmm, that _is_ a problem…” mused Mr. Black sympathetically.  
          “Who are you talking to?” The question came from Lily who had come up to stand besides Holly.  
          “The portrait, of course,” replied Holly looking down at Lily.  
          “But it doesn’t talk,” protested Lily. “He only sleeps—if he’s there at all!”  
          “Of course he talks!” countered Holly as she looked back at the portrait. To her surprise, Mr. Black was leaning against the picture frame and appeared to be deep in sleep. “Oh my,” Holly exclaimed blankly staring at the sleeping figure. “Well, maybe you just haven’t been properly introduced,” she said remembering how stuffy Mr. Black was before introductions…  
          “Mr. Black? Wake up, please?” began Holly hopefully. “I’d like you to meet someone. She’s my friend and her name is Miss Lily Potter,” Holly continued even though Mr. Black didn’t stir and was now snoring loudly. “And she lives here,” Holly added.  
          Holly looked down at Lily who was staring expectantly at the portrait. “Lily,” she added, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Phineas Nigellus Black. He was a past Headmaster at Hogwarts.”  
          “Was he really?” asked Lily impressed.  
          “Yes, he was,” assured Holly, “and he is very nice.” Was that a twitch? Holly thought she saw one eye open just a bit and look out. “Say something!” she whispered to Lily.  
          “What?” Lily said to Holly.  
          “Anything,” replied Holly, “but be polite—you’ve just been introduced, remember?”  
          “Oh. Um, pleased to meet you, Mr. Black,” said Lily to the reclining figure.  
          “Bow!” Holly hissed suddenly remembering how she had curtseyed before. Lily hastily bobbed down and up making a quick curtsey. “How do you do?” Lily added hopefully.  
          Mr. Black stretched and tugged on his pointy beard. He opened both eyes and fixed them directly on Lily. “Would you happen to be Slytherin?” he asked in his high reedy voice.  
          “No, sir,” answered Lily solemnly.  
          “She hasn’t been sorted, yet,” added Holly quickly before Lily could say anything.   Holly knew Mr. Black was a Slytherin and was afraid Lily might state a sorting preference he might not like… “Tomorrow is her first day of school.”  
          “Not even sorted yet?” Mr. Black said while stroking his pointed beard thoughtfully. “Well, just hold your head up high when your name is called and the Sorting Hat will find the right place for you… Been doing it for years,” he added as an aside, “and has never gotten it wrong yet.”  
          “Hey, Lily,” shouted Albus. “Come get your cat!!! She’s in on the owl food and won’t leave!”  
          “Um, excuse me, Mr. Black,” said Lily. “But I have to go. Can we talk again some time?”  
          “Perhaps,” hedged Mr. Black, “If I’m not too sleepy…” and he yawned to emphasize the point.  
          “Thank you,” said Lily bobbing down in another curtsey and she grabbed Holly’s hand tugging on it as she left.  
          “Uh, I think I have to go too,” said Holly feeling her arm and body get pulled down the hall. “Thank you for talking with us,” she added hastily and left the portrait before her arm was jerked out of its socket.

********************

          “Can I ask you a question?” asked Lily as they were walking to her room.  
          “Of course,” replied Holly. Lily had gone to Albus’ room and quickly scooped up her snowy white kitten all the while not letting go of Holly’s hand. Holly hadn’t resisted because it was obvious Lily had something to say to her. It was just a matter of finding out what.  
          “Were you scared about going to Hogwarts?”  
          “Yes, I was,” admitted Holly. “I had no idea what a wizard school would be like.”  
          “But then it was O.K., right?”  
          “Yes, it was,” assured Holly.  
          “And they’ll tell you things, right?”  
          “Of course, that’s what school is all about.”  
          “And they’d tell you the other things too?”  
          “What sort of things?” asked Holly confused.  
          “Other things,” replied Lily. “Things I couldn’t know before…”  
          “Before what?”  
          “Before I go to Hogwarts!” said Lily impatiently.  
          “Like what?”  
          “Like this summer.”  
          “What about this summer?”              
          “Well,” Lily began slowly, “we all had to go stay with Grandmum and Granddad for a while. It was real sudden-like but nobody would say why. Kreacher came with us, he’s never done that before, and when I asked if he would play with me, he said he couldn’t because he had to keep Albus safe.”  
          “He did?” murmured Holly with interest.  
          “Yes,” affirmed Lily. “And Albus would scream and cry in the middle of the night—it was so loud he would wake me up. I asked him once what was wrong but Albus said it was just a “bad dream” and told me to go back to bed.”  
          “And did you?”  
          “Yes,” replied Lily simply. “James, Rose and Kreacher were already there and Albus obviously didn’t want me there too. But the “bad dreams” happened every night we were at Grandmum’s! Nobody would admit to it, but I heard them!” Lily rounded the corner and entered her bedroom. “Rose, James and Albus were always whispering to each other. They’d stop talking or told me to leave whenever I came near. And every time I asked someone what was going on, they said I was “too young.” Lily looked up at Holly, her eyes brimming with tears. “So, I won’t be too young any more once I start going to Hogwarts, right?”  
          “Mmmm,” said Holly thoughtfully. “Wait here,” she told Lily. “I’ll be right back.” Holly left Lily standing in the middle of her bedroom and walked swiftly down the hallway. She rounded the corner and sped down the steps. Then she returned to the living room.  
          Cousin Harry was still sitting in the chair. His arms held an opened newspaper with photos that blurred as they moved back and forth; it was _The Daily Prophet_ , wizard news. Ginny was there too, seated comfortably in her own chair looking through the potions book. They both looked up at her arrival.  
          “There was another plaque, wasn’t there!” announced Holly without preamble.  
          Cousin Harry blinked in surprise at her words. Ginny’s emotions of astonishment were more obvious. “Yes,” replied Cousin Harry equally blunt. Then he added, “Ginny remembered it.”  
          “Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Holly.  
          “There was no need,” replied Cousin Harry calmly. “Ginny remembered where she put it; we found the plaque and destroyed it. I watched it happen personally. There are no more plaques to worry about.”  
          “But—”  
          “Who told you?” inquired Ginny. “James or Albus?”  
          “Neither,” said Holly shortly. “Lily.”  
          “Lily?” said Cousin Harry in surprise. “But she shouldn’t know…”  
          “She knows something, but not exactly what and she’s asking questions,” replied Holly. “What’ll I tell her?” If the family hadn’t told Lily anything, Holly knew it really wasn’t her place to talk either.  
          “I’ll go up,” said Ginny hastily closing the potions book.  
          “No,” said Cousin Harry quietly and Ginny stopped in her tracks. “It wasn’t _you_ she turned to with her questions,” he told Ginny. Then he added, “Lily’s been pretty quiet all summer but I just figured it had to do with new school jitters. I had no idea…” Cousin Harry sighed deeply and looked directly at Holly. “Tell Lily the truth, of course. Answer her questions, but try to not upset her in the process. We can’t protect Lily forever and she _is_ starting Hogwarts tomorrow. We’ll be by later to tuck her in and answer any follow-up questions...”  
           Holly nodded. She turned, went back up the stairs and into Lily’s room. Lily was still standing in the middle of the room looking worried and confused. “Lily?” said Holly brightly while she rearranged the pillows on Lily’s bed and pulled back the covers. “Have a seat.” Holly sat down comfortably on the bed, leaned against the pillows and patted the space besides her invitingly. “I’ve a story to tell you…” Lilly plopped happily down on the bed and snuggled up to Holly. “It’s about this very mean wizard named Tom Riddle…”


	13. Chapter 13

          “Holly? Holly wake up!” Lily’s eager voice was accompanied by a firm grip on Holly’s shoulder that shook it back and forth.  
          Holly groaned and turned over trying to re-catch the last vestiges of the dream she had been having.  
          “Come on!” insisted Lily shaking Holly shoulder even more. “School!” she said excitedly. “It starts today!!!”  
          “Go away,” Holly muttered sleepily.  
          “Wake up!” insisted Lily impatiently still shaking Holly’s shoulder. “Dad said to let you sleep in and you have, but everyone else is already up and eating breakfast. You don’t want to be late do you?”  
          “How about I just skip breakfast and continue sleeping,” suggested Holly while refusing to open her eyes.  
          “No! You can’t do that,” scolded Lily. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You can’t start school without breakfast!”   Holly sighed and forced herself to sit up. “That’s better,” said Lily approvingly. “Now, what are you wearing today?”

 ********************

          Holly felt surprisingly rested once she had rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Lily had listened solemnly to Holly’s story interrupting only when Holly got to the part of Albus and the room…  
          “You mean you and Albus nearly died and nobody told me!” she exclaimed.  
          “Well, it all happened so fast,” began Holly thoughtfully. “And it was late at night when you were asleep. And when it was over, everyone was O.K. I expect your parents didn’t want to worry you needlessly,” she added abruptly realizing that was exactly how Cousin Harry had handled the bit about the third plaque… “Of course, they thought that was the only plaque…”  
          “There were more?” asked Lily with wide eyes.  
          “Yes,” answered Holly simply. “My brother Vernon found one this summer. He has green eyes too.”  
          “And you had to rescue him?”  
          “I tried,” said Holly not elaborating. “I got into the room and got him loose but I couldn’t break through the wall…” Holly frowned remembering. “Your mum got us out,” she added making Lily smile with pride. “And then they found another plaque—I expect that’s the one that gave Albus nightmares. Your parents destroyed it so we don’t have to worry any more,” finished Holly.  
          Lily clapped her hands in delight. “Tell me more!” she cried out.  
          “That’s about all there is to that story,” said Holly with a smile.  
          “Then tell me another!” she demanded.  
          “I’m afraid I’m not very good at stories,” replied Holly starting to get up.  
          But Lily persisted. “Would you tell me the one about Lord Voldemort?”  
          Holly hesitated. “There isn’t much to tell with that story,” she began. She could sense both Ginny and Cousin Harry waiting just outside the doorway, no doubt listening. “Tom Riddle grew up and changed his name to Lord Voldemort. He was just as nasty as a grown-up as he was when he was younger. He killed a whole bunch of people and tried to kill your father, too. But your father got him first and that made him a big hero to the other wizards… But your parents would know more about that than me. Why don’t you ask them?” she added sliding off the bed inviting them in with her words.  
          “Ask about what?” said Ginny moving swiftly into the room while pretending she hadn’t heard the earlier conversation.  
          “Lord Voldemort?” replied Lily.  
          “You want to know about him?” questioned Ginny and Lily nodded happily. “Well, I suppose I could tell you a few things,” said Ginny pulling up the covers over Lily and sitting next to the bed. “Where would you like me to begin?”  
          Holly moved quickly to the doorway of the room blocking Cousin Harry’s entry. “What happened to the _fourth_ plaque?” she whispered.  
          “Fourth?” replied Cousin Harry mildly neither affirming nor disagreeing with her assumption. “What makes you think there was a fourth?”  
          “Symmetry,” replied Holly promptly. “Albus and I came in and out from one direction, but it wasn’t the same way Vernon entered. You found a third plaque but there were _four_ walls in the room! You said they’re _all_ gone so what happened to the fourth?”  
           “It was found and destroyed soon after it was put up,” replied Cousin Harry not bothering to debate Holly’s logic. “We don’t know by whom but Ginny says Tom Riddle was rather annoyed by the plaque’s destruction and intended to investigate further after he had dealt with me…”  
          “Oh,” said Holly softly. “Thank you.” Cousin Harry wasn’t much on volunteering information, but when confronted he was up front and at least didn’t try to hide or deny things. “Good night,” she added.  
          “Good night, Holly,” said Cousin Harry. “Sleep well,” he wished her. “And thank you for talking to Lily.”  
          “Yes, sir,” acknowledged Holly and moved past him on the way to her room.  
          “It was placed at Kings Cross Station,” Cousin Harry added suddenly, his words freezing Holly mid-step. “I’d have found it for sure on the way to school in the fall had it been there.” Holly shivered unconsciously. She hadn’t even been born then. They owed much to the unnamed person who had found and destroyed that fourth plaque.

 *******************

          Lily waited impatiently for Holly to finish dressing. Then she grabbed Holly’s hand and practically dragged her down the hall. Without hesitation, Lily continued to pull Holly down the stairs, through the entryway and down the second set of stairs to the kitchen. She didn’t slow until she had rounded the corner into the kitchen where she finally released Holly’s hand.  
          Breathless, Holly looked up. Lily stepped into a butter beer bottle as she ran right through the body of Sirius Black who staggered precariously near the icebox while holding a plate of pasties. The kitchen table was not only covered but also piled high with dirty dishes. At the bottom were the plates from which the Potter family ate. As she watched, James put his hand through the messy stack and brought out a glass of milk to drink. Bellatrix stood on the other side of the table and glared suspiciously at Holly. Albus was seated in front of her; Bellatrix’s wand and hand poked menacingly through Albus’ head! And Kreacher—Holly could make out two of them—one superimposed over the other. It wasn’t an exact fit, more like seeing double—or a creature with four eyes, four floppy ears, two noses and two mouths. One elf was smiling with clean clothes and the other, clothed in dirty rags, scowled and said clearly, “ _Nasty ungrateful swine who lives only becau_ —some breakfast?” finished the other Kreacher with a smile. Holly fled.

********************

          Ginny Potter held a bowl of oatmeal in one hand and walked resolutely up the stairs outside the kitchen. In the silence that followed Holly’s rapid exit Harry had felt compelled to provide some sort of explanation. “Holly,” he said, “has been experiencing some, uh, flashbacks—memories,” he explained further, “related to her experiences during the summer. Some of them are rather upsetting to her…” He went on to add that he would appreciate it if the children kept an eye on Holly while she was at Hogwarts and made sure she stayed safe…  
          James and Albus nodded agreeably but Lily blurted, “That doesn’t make any sense, the trophy room is at Hogwarts, why is she having flashbacks here?”  
          That’s when Harry reluctantly revealed that Holly had visited the mansion during the summer as well!  
          At that point, Mrs. Black screamed, “OUT, OUT you miserable _mudblood_ filth!” And they heard the front door creak open… Mrs. Black fell silent, no doubt surprised at the success of her words.  
          “I’ll find her,” volunteered Kreacher eagerly.  
          “No!” exclaimed Harry quickly. Kreacher looked at him in surprise. He was good at finding people. Then Harry added in a milder tone, “It would be better if I went.” He stood.  
          “No!” Ginny had said rising swiftly from her chair. “I’ll do it!”  
          “But you don’t know—”  
          “I’ll figure it out!” Ginny replied confidently. “You spent all yesterday with Holly,” she added. “You need to spend some time with your own family. It’s Lily’s first year,” Ginny reminded Harry.   “She needs you—they all do. Now, you get them all off to the station and I’ll see about Holly.” And so Harry had reluctantly sat back down. Ginny grabbed a bowl and swiftly filled it with some oatmeal. “Why don’t you take Holly’s things to the station,” she suggested while she used a spoon to add some sugar, nuts and raisins to the oatmeal. “And we’ll meet you there.” Then Ginny left the kitchen.  
          Spending time with his family wasn’t the only reason Ginny insisted on finding Holly, but it was an excuse Harry could accept. Ginny knew the previous day had been difficult for Harry.  
          Besides the usual stress of dodging the reporters and dealing with the Wycliff family, in particular a cousin Harry didn’t like, Ginny knew Harry had finally heard Holly’s account of the three days after Vernon touched the plaque. Harry didn’t mention the details to Ginny, but she well remembered the nightmare tale of Hogwarts Holly had described two years earlier and couldn’t begin to imagine a world in which Voldemort ruled. It would be hard to listen to. Then, in Diagon Alley, Holly had gotten upset over Snape… twice! Frankly, Ginny felt Harry needed a _break_ from Holly!  
           Ginny opened the front door and wondered briefly which way Holly had run. The Muggle neighborhood wasn’t very safe and she wanted to find Holly before she got into any trouble. She needn’t have worried though, for seated on the front step was Holly’s cat, Sasha. Sasha immediately stood upon Ginny’s arrival and started down the steps. Like Harry the previous day, Ginny followed the gray cat down the street, through an alley, between some buildings and finally spotted Holly curled up behind a dumpster, her head buried in her arms.  
          “Holly?” said Ginny questioningly. Was this how Harry had found her the last time? “Are you O.K.?”  
          Holly lifted her head and looked at Ginny. Her blonde hair was tangled and her face was streaked with tears. “Why was he so mean?” she asked bluntly.  
          “Mean?” echoed Ginny in confusion. “Who?”  
          “Kreacher!” elaborated Holly. “How could he be so nasty?”  
          “Kreacher?” repeated Ginny and she struggled to think how Kreacher had been mean or nasty to Holly in the kitchen… Then she remembered Harry had said something about Holly having “flashbacks” related to her experience during the summer and admitting that Holly had visited Grimmauld Place—but no one would have been there then… The house was only opened up after Sirius’ escape from Azkaban and he might not have ever escaped with Harry dead… So no one should have been in Grimmauld Place, no one except…  
          “Oh,” Ginny said with sudden understanding. “You must have met Kreacher the way he was before!” She set the bowl of oatmeal down, sat next to Holly and pulled the girl into her arms. “Yes,” Ginny agreed remembering. “He was a vile little elf always muttering profanities but can you blame him?” she added. “He had been locked up for years in the house with no one but the portrait of Mrs. Black for company and you know what she’s like.”  
          “What made him change?” asked Holly sniffing and rubbing her eyes.  
          “I’m not really sure,” said Ginny thoughtfully. “When I came back to Grimmauld place after the Battle of Hogwarts, Kreacher was totally different: clean and cheerful and absolutely devoted to Harry. I asked Ron what happened and he said Harry had given Kreacher a locket. Can you imagine that? A simple locket could make such a difference in Kreacher!”  
           Ginny rocked Holly gently from side to side remembering. “I hope you don’t tell the others the way Kreacher used to be,” she added suddenly. “Not that Kreacher’s ashamed of the way he was. Kreacher is what he is with no regrets, but the information might change the way your cousins behave towards Kreacher and he does dote on them so…” Ginny reached out and brought the bowl of oatmeal forward. “Would you like some food,” she offered.  
           Holly shook her head. “How did he die?” she asked instead.  
          “Who?” asked Ginny blankly. After all, Kreacher was still alive…  
          “Sirius Black,” replied Holly. “How did he die?”  
          “Sirius???” repeated Ginny wondering why Holly would ever—“Did you meet Sirius Black?” she asked in astonishment. Holly didn’t answer but Ginny was certain she was right. Why else would Holly take such an interest in someone dead over 20 years and it would explain why Harry had spent the night in the living room rather than going to bed. Sirius’ death had hit Harry hard. The thought that he might have still lived if only… Well, Ginny would have to discuss that further with Harry, but not now. Now she had to deal with Holly.  
          “Eat!” said Ginny firmly placing the bowl under Holly’s nose. Again Holly shook her head. “I won’t answer your question unless you’re eating,” wheedled Ginny. And Holly reluctantly took the bowl from Ginny. Ginny collected her thoughts and watched as Holly stirred the oatmeal a few times before finally placing a spoonful in her mouth.  
          “It was my fourth year during exams,” began Ginny remembering. “Harry was certain that Sirius had been captured and was being tortured. I don’t know how he knew, but Harry was always good about things like that.” She stopped and waited until Holly took another spoonful of oatmeal. “He was determined to rescue Sirius and we, well we wanted to help.  
          There were six of us,” added Ginny, “Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville and me. I won’t bore you with how we managed to leave Hogwarts and reach the Ministry of Magic, but we did. Harry led us unerringly to the Department of Mysteries where he was certain Sirius was being held.” Ginny waited again until Holly took another bite.  
          “That’s where things went dreadfully wrong,” whispered Ginny. “Sirius wasn’t there. He had never been captured; it was all a horrible trick to get Harry to the Department of Mysteries. The Death Eaters were waiting for us,” added Ginny while remembering her shock and fear at that moment. “And they wanted Harry to give them some prophecy stored in the Department of Mysteries…”  
          “What did you do?” whispered Holly caught up in the tale.  
          “We ran!” admitted Ginny. “Just as hard and as fast as we could. I was never so scared in my life as that night in the Department of Mysteries. Eat!” she reminded Holly. Holly filled the spoon and took another bite. “We held our own for a while,” continued Ginny. “But we were only kids, and they were Death Eaters, the vilest of Lord Voldemort’s supporters and they were very, very good…” She paused until Holly took another bite. Then Ginny continued.  
          “In the end, we were trapped in this room surrounded by Death Eaters. Harry was the only one still standing; Hermione and Luna were unconscious, Ron and Neville were spell addled and I had a broken ankle. Then I got hit by a spell…” Holly scraped the bottom of the bowl filling her spoon and finished the oatmeal.  
          “I don’t know what exactly happened after that,” Ginny added, “because I woke up in the infirmary.   They told me later that members of the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius included, arrived and rescued us. Only one person died that night,” Ginny concluded.  
          “Sirius?” whispered Holly looking up at Ginny with wide green eyes.  
          “Yes, Sirius,” replied Ginny. “Neville told me that Bellatrix did it.”  
          “Bellatrix?” said Holly sharply.  
          “That mean something to you?” asked Ginny looking at Holly. “Did you meet Bellatrix too?”  
          “Yes,” answered Holly softly but not elaborating. “What happened to her?”  
          “Mum got her,” said Ginny with satisfaction.  
          “Your mother?” asked Holly in surprise.  
          “Uh-huh,” responded Ginny. “It was right after Fred had died and during the Battle of Hogwarts. We were all fighting, casting spells right and left and then Bellatrix made the mistake of casting a death curse my way... It passed so close I could feel the heat of that spell on my cheek. Mum saw it happen and she went kind of berserk! She called Bellatrix some names I’d never repeat in public, faced off against Bellatrix and, well, all I can say is: don’t ever make mum mad!” Ginny finished with a laugh.  
          “I’ll remember that,” said Holly solemnly but there was a twinkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.  
          “You ready to leave?” asked Ginny taking the bowl and handing Holly a handkerchief she had just conjured.  
          “Yes, ma’am. I guess so,” replied Holly putting the handkerchief to good use on her face.  
          “Good,” said Ginny and she stood up, “because you still have a train to catch.” She offered a hand to Holly helping her up.  
          “What about the prophecy?” asked Holly as the two walked back down the alley.  
          “The prophecy?”  
          “Yes, what did it say?”  
          “I don’t know,” answered Ginny. “I heard it dropped and was destroyed during all the fighting.”  
          “And you never found out?”  
          “No. It wasn’t important to me. Harry probably knows, but when I was with him we weren’t talking about prophecies or Lord Voldemort.” Ginny felt her face warm at the memories.  
          “Harry’s already taken your things to the station,” Ginny added changing the subject as they neared the street curb. “So now it’s a matter of getting us there in time…” She pulled out a well-worn calling card. “Stan?” Ginny said into it. “We need you!”

 ********************

          Even with Stan’s help, Holly nearly missed the train. When they arrived at Kings Cross station Ginny literally ran Holly inside pushing her through the barrier without hesitation. Cousin Harry saw her arrival with visible relief. “Hurry!” he told her pointing to a car where a familiar hand beckoned to help her up. “Good luck,” he said as Holly rushed to the steps of the car.  
          “Thank you,” replied Holly from over her shoulder. She grabbed the hand sticking out the car and mounted her first step. Almost immediately the train started its slow roll forward gradually gathering speed as it moved. Holly’s last image of the station was that of Cousin Harry and Ginny standing together waving “good-bye.” Their figures gradually receded into the distance as she watched.

 

********************

          “I made it!” said Holly breathlessly.  
          “Yes,” agreed Mark calmly for it was his hand that had helped pull Holly onto the train. “Mr. Potter said you would,” he added, “but I was beginning to wonder…” He was filled with a jumble of emotions that were difficult to read.  
          “Come on, Holly,” said Becky taking Holly’s hand and pulling her into the car. Becky had been on the other side of Mark and was carrying a basket of some sort; the two of them were clearly waiting for Holly’s arrival.  
          “Before I forget, here,” said Mark drawing out a rolled scroll and handing it to Holly.  
          “What’s this?” asked Holly curiously while taking the scroll.  
          “Your permission slip so you can go to Hogsmeade,” replied Mark. “Mr. Potter gave it to me to give to you. He said he forgot about it last night and wasn’t sure there’d be time to give it to you at the station...”  
          “Thank you,” said Holly tucking the scroll in a pocket. She had forgotten that third years were permitted to go to the neighboring village.  
          “He also requested that we stay by you at all times during the trip.” Holly froze pulling Becky to a halt. Mark looked directly at her and added, “He said you’d explain.”  
          Holly gulped. That would explain the worry, concern and curiosity that dominated her friends’ emotions. “Uh, yeah,” she replied guiltily. “I guess I should… But, ah, not here…” she added looking around the car with its berths filled with students.  
          “We figured that,” said Becky. “This way,” she said resuming her walk down the aisle pulling Holly with her.  
          “Where are we going?” asked Holly as they traveled through one car and then the next and next. She hadn’t sat this far back last year while on the train.  
          “You’ll see,” replied Becky cryptically and she continued to pull Holly along. To Holly’s surprise, Becky took her all the way to the caboose! A hot blast of air struck Holly in the face when Becky opened the caboose door. Several elves in greasy gray clothing looked up in surprise at their arrival. Some sort of furnace glowed red at one side of the tiny room. Next to the furnace laid a pile of huge black stones that glistened weirdly and seemed to be too large and shiny to be regular chunks of coal.  
          “Excuse us,” said Becky as she dragged Holly through the over heated room and opened the back door sending a strong gust of cool air through the caboose. “Come on!” she encouraged stepping out on the viewing platform. Holly followed reluctantly. Mark came out behind Holly and shut the door.  
          “All the berths have students in them,” began Becky explaining.  
          “It’s a bit breezy here,” commented Mark, “but it’s a nice day and it’ll be private. We’ve a long ride to Hogwarts,” he continued. “I think it’s about time you told us what happened after Vernon touched the plaque,” he said fixing his brown eyes on Holly.  
          _“Everything!”_ added Becky ominously turning Holly by the shoulders so she could see Becky’s eyes and feel her sincerity.

********************

          It was easier relating the story the second time. Holly kept to a basic narrative providing more specific details only when asked. It was faster and less emotionally draining that way. Becky and Mark’s unconditional support while Holly spoke helped negate some of the fear that did surface. The two friends listened with total enthusiasm and interest unlike Cousin Harry, whose interest was often mingled with recognition, regret, guilt and sorrow.  
          “So tell us why Mr. Potter wants us by your side at school,” asked Mark when Holly had finished her tale. He popped the last morsel of a carrot cake into his mouth and chewed appreciatively.  
          Not wanting any interruptions and in anticipation of a long story, Becky had packed a picnic lunch for the three to share. They had taken a meal break after Holly described reaching Diagon Alley and then pondered Roland’s appearance and what it might have meant while they ate. After that, Becky and Mark snacked on the leftovers finishing most of them while Holly continued her story.  
          In response to Mark’s question, Holly reluctantly told the two about the “flashbacks” she had been having.  
          “You mean you were seeing double the whole time we were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron and you never said a thing?” exclaimed Becky.  
          “Sort of,” Holly admitted. “At some places the images were stronger than others.”  
          “It was pretty gutsy of you to go to Grimmauld Place,” commented Mark with his brow furrowed, “especially considering you knew something was likely to happen…”  
          “I had to,” replied Holly, “I’m hoping whatever is going on will quit once I see for myself things aren’t that way anymore…”  
          “But if that were the case,” reasoned Mark, “then you wouldn’t have seen anything on the way _out_ of Diagon Alley or in the Leaky Cauldron the second time.”  
          “I know,” sighed Holly. “But I had to try. It actually wasn’t all that bad,” she commented remembering. “I did see Sirius when I came in, but nothing else the rest of the night. I slept really well, too,” Holly added, “and when I woke up, Lily was there urging me to hurry up for breakfast. She was all excited about starting school. Honestly, I had forgotten all about having flashbacks,” Holly admitted. “And then I got to the kitchen! Everything was so bizarre!” Becky reached over and hugged Holly impulsively. Holly continued softly, “When I saw those four fat ears waving at me and Kreacher both cursing and smiling at the same time, I just couldn’t bear it!” Holly sniffed. She could feel the tears rise again and hastily wiped her eyes.  
          “What’d you do?” asked Mark.  
          “I ran,” confessed Holly. “I’m not sure how I got there,” she added, “but when Mrs. Potter found me I was outside somewhere in a back alley behind some dumpsters. That’s why I was late to the station,” she explained. “I know they’re just flashbacks and they aren’t really there but sometimes they seem so real!”  
          “I can see why Mr. Potter wants us to stay with you,” said Mark thoughtfully. “You can’t be running off alone like that at Hogwarts—who know what dangers you could run into. We need to figure out what’s happening so we can stop it.”  
          “I should think that was pretty easy,” said Becky. “It’s obvious Holly gets flashbacks whenever she revisits one of the places she was at during those three days…”  
          “Except she wasn’t near anything when she was with her father…” frowned Mark.  
          “But she was thinking about Roland,” countered Becky excitedly. “And she saw Roland during those three days…”  
          “True,” agreed Holly. “But that doesn’t explain Mrs. Figg. I wasn’t thinking about her at all when I saw her. I don’t mind telling you,” she added, “it was pretty weird seeing Cousin Harry with curlers—” Becky giggled.  
          “Becky!” reproached Mark.  
          “Sorry!” apologized Becky while smothering another chuckle. “But you have to admit it sounds rather funny.”  
          “Let’s stay serious here,” insisted Mark. “There has to be some connection… Wait a minute—what were you doing when it happened?”  
          “Um, I was returning the invisibility cloak,” replied Holly.  
          “But who gave you that invisibility cloak?”  
          “Dumbledore.”  
          “But wasn’t it Mrs. Figg who physically _gave_ you the package?” Holly nodded. “Well, maybe it was the thought or feel of the cloak that caused the flashback with Mrs. Figg.”  
          “That’s stretching it, don’t you think?” scoffed Becky. "After all, Holly had it with her all summer without any problems!"  
          “Well, it is a connection of some sorts,” Mark added defensively. “And you have to admit there is a certain logic to it…”  
          “Perhaps,” mused Holly, “unfortunately that doesn’t account for Wizard Pilkington. He never gave me anything and I certainly wasn’t thinking about him when he showed up.” The group subsided into thoughtful silence after that.  
          “Do they look alike?” asked Mark hopefully.  
          “Maybe it was something Mr. Potter said that triggered the flashback,” suggested Becky suddenly. “What did he say?”  
          “I don’t know,” sighed Holly. “I could only hear Wizard Pilkington at the time. Say, can we worry about this some other time,” she asked. “I’m kind of hungry.” And cold. But that went without saying. After all, they were sitting outside on the viewing platform. The sun had set and the “warmer” breeze of daytime had long gone. Holly wasn’t dressed for northern weather and she knew her friends were feeling chilled too. It was time to get back inside. “Do you suppose the snack cart is still operating?”  
           “Let’s find out,” agreed Mark and he got up. Becky and Holly got up as well. A blast of hot air instantly greeted them when Mark opened the caboose door.

********************

          “Hello, Mrs. Wycliff,” began Harry Potter in a pleasant sounding voice. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but is Dillon in?” Of course he was, Harry had been watching the place for the last hour to make sure.  
          “Uh, yes, he is,” replied Laurel uncertainly. “Wait here and I’ll get him?”  
          “Thank you,” replied Harry quietly.  
          Laurel shut the door and Harry heard her call out, “Dillon? You have company…”  
          Harry waited patiently. He didn’t want to intrude more than necessary and knew his presence was probably as unwelcome as his desire to be here. Harry had also timed his visit to occur _after_ the family meal. He had noted Dudley was extremely uncomfortable sharing food with him not that Harry particularly enjoyed eating with Dudley either.  
          The door reopened and Dudley’s portly face appeared. Despite the name change, he would always be “Dudley” to Harry. “What are you doing here?” asked Dudley aggressively.  
          “Letting you know the results of the medical exam,” replied Harry calmly forcing himself to not respond to Dudley’s antagonistic manner, “as promised.”  
          “Oh.” Much of Dudley’s antagonism immediately subsided. Whatever else Dudley was, he did love Holly, and that had to count for something. “Why didn’t you write?” he asked suspiciously.  
          That’s what Harry had wanted to do but Ginny wouldn’t hear of it. “That’s too impersonal,” she told him, “They’re parents,” she reminded him, “and will have questions… Which would you prefer if it were something about Lily,” she added, “a piece of paper or a person?” And so Harry had come.  
           “I thought you might appreciate a response sooner than the post,” replied Harry carefully keeping all traces of emotion out of his voice. “You seemed rather worried.”  
          “That was very kind of you,” interposed Laurel pulling the door open wider. “Won’t you please come in and tell us about it?” She backed up while holding the door open and Dillon reluctantly backed away as well to let Harry in.  
          “Thank you,” replied Harry. He stepped into the entryway. Laurel was O.K. Her manners and courtesy almost made visits with Dudley bearable, almost.  
          “So,” began Dudley without preamble once the door had closed, “what did the Doctor say?”  
          “Uh,” began Harry uncertainly as he looked around the room. Vernon was sitting in the corner with a video game. He looked up at Harry’s arrival staring at him with his green eyes. Vernon wore his shiny new silver ring conspicuously on the first finger of his left hand. Albus wore a ring on the same finger of his hand as well. While Albus wouldn’t say exactly what he and James had done to the ring, Harry had a pretty good idea. Harry had personally thanked Rupert for his assistance in keeping Vernon from the reporters.   At that time, Rupert casually mentioned the cool “ring light” he saw Albus use to find his way to the cab. It didn’t take much to put “two and two” together.  
          Laurel, noting the direction of Harry’s glance, saw Vernon and immediately decided the entry was no place for a doctor’s report. “Why don’t we come into the kitchen to talk?” she suggested. “It’ll be more private there.”  
          Harry nodded and followed Laurel into the kitchen. Dudley entered the kitchen after Harry closing the door behind him.  
          “Have a seat,” said Laurel indicating a chair at the table. “Would you like some tea?”  
          “Yes, please,” said Harry while sitting down. He wasn’t really thirsty, but a cup of tea would give his hands something to do.  
          “Holly’s not with you,” observed Dudley bluntly while sitting down. “I take it she went on to _that school_ of yours.”  
          “We put her on the train for school this morning,” confirmed Harry in a calm voice while Laurel bustled around the kitchen putting on water and getting out dishes.  
          “So, she’s all right?” Harry noted that besides his usual aggressive behavior, Dudley seemed tense. Harry could see the same worry Dudley had exhibited the previous day.  
          “Physically, yes,” replied Harry choosing his words carefully. “Thank you,” he added automatically as Laurel placed a cup and saucer in front of him.  
          “And mentally?” asked Laurel. She pulled out a chair and sat down while watching Harry closely for his answer.  
          “Mentally, she’s fine, too!” assured Harry. And she was, as far as Harry was concerned.  
          “So what about yesterday?” demanded Dudley.  
          “We’re still trying to figure that out,” replied Harry. “As you already observed, it seems Holly has been experiencing some particularly _vivid_ flashbacks. We don’t yet know why or how to stop them,” he admitted.  
           “And you sent her to school anyway?” accused Dudley.  
          “Keeping her out of school is no solution,” countered Harry keeping his voice as mild as possible. “She had flashbacks while living at home, too,” he reminded Dudley. “Maybe things will be different for her in a new environment…” But Harry didn’t think so. Holly’s three-day journey during the summer had ended at Hogwarts. He shuttered to think what she would see there.  
          “What sort of flashbacks?” asked Laurel.  
          Harry poured himself some tea. It was not yet dark enough to be properly steeped, but the action enabled him to stall for time while he composed an answer. “As near as I can tell,” he finally began, “she is remembering things or events that happened during the summer.” He didn’t feel he had to explain _which_ part of the summer she was probably remembering…  
          “Why?”  
          “We don’t know,” replied Harry honestly. “But they’re just memories. Hopefully they’ll fade in time…”  
          “What I saw looked more serious than that,” retorted Dudley sternly.  
          “Yes,” agreed Harry. “I asked Holly about this Roland and she seemed to have no difficulty at all talking about him, more importantly, she _didn’t_ experience another flashback! So it’s possible that having once experienced a particular flashback, it won’t be repeated.” Of course, Harry didn’t think that had been the situation while Holly was in Diagon Alley.  
          “What about those other times?” asked Laurel worriedly.  
          “Holly wasn’t keeping track then and couldn’t confirm whether the memories were new or repeats. We also don’t know whether she will continue to experience these memories while at school, and if she does, to what degree. Perhaps it’s just a thing that happens when she is traveling.” Harry stopped a moment while he added lemon and sugar to his watery tea. _“Thank goodness she hadn’t taken a train to Hogwarts during the summer!”_ he reflected silently as he took a sip while hoping that the worst that would or could happen to Holly on a train had occurred the previous day. Harry set the cup on the saucer and forced his mind back to the current situation. “So,” he continued out loud, “while the, uh, doctor said Holly could attend school, he also insisted on certain conditions and restrictions while there until we know more about what is happening and why.” Winonan hadn’t seen Holly charge recklessly out of Grimmauld place. Would the conditions he set down be enough to keep Holly safe?  
          “What sort of conditions and restrictions?”  
          While balancing the cup and saucer with one hand, Harry used his other to readjust the glasses on his nose before speaking. “Well, for one, Holly can’t participate in certain school activities, sports and the like. More importantly, Holly is not to go anywhere outside the dorms _alone_. Should something serious happen again, like the Roland thing, there will always be someone with Holly who can summon help if necessary. It shouldn’t be that much of a hardship on Holly,” Harry reflected aloud, “as I suspect she spends a lot of time with her friend Becky anyway.”  
          He took another sip of his tea and then carefully placed both cup and saucer back down on the table before continuing. “Holly is also to visit the infirmary regularly and report all flashback experiences. This will enable Doctor Winonan to modify his restrictions, and suggest or change treatment as needed. In addition, Holly must keep a journal of all memory related events, the kind of flashback, when it happened and where. If the flashbacks persist, we’ll review her journal to see if there are any overall patterns that suggest a cause or solution.”  
          “What about this boy Roland?” asked Dudley, clearly unconvinced.  
          “I’ve made inquiries into that,” replied Harry. “Roland is or was an upperclassman who will not be attending school this year so we needn’t worry about that.”  
          Harry pushed back his chair and stood. “That’s about it,” he said with finality. “I would like to tell you more, give you answers,” he added softly, “but in truth, we just don’t know. Right now, all we can do is watch and wait.” Harry slid the chair under the table. “Thank you for your time,” he said and turned to leave.  
          “Did she tell you?” asked Laurel abruptly.  
          “What?” asked Harry freezing in place.  
          “I asked Holly what happened when she vanished and she wouldn’t say,” explained Laurel. “She’s got to talk to someone about it, so did she talk you?”  
          The silence hung heavily between them while Harry considered what to say. “Yes,” he finally replied though he knew that answer would not be enough for Laurel.  
          “So, what happened?” When Harry didn’t answer, Laurel continued. “I appreciate you not wanting to bother us with magical stuff, Mr. Potter, but this is _our_ _daughter_ we’re talking about! Holly is evidently having problems with what happened and I think we need to know more so we can help her. What happened when she vanished?”  
          Harry looked at the faces of the two people before him. Laurel’s green eyes stared back at him filled with worry and Dudley, so afraid of magic, looked at him with equal concern. Harry sighed. “I’ll leave the specifics to Holly,” he told them softly, “but as far as Holly is concerned, she didn’t vanish, _you_ did. Holly found herself in a world physically the same yet totally different.”  
          “The one with this Snape person?” asked Laurel clearly remembering what Holly must had told her about the first time.  
          “Yes,” replied Harry. “Holly knew the curse had been reenacted so it should have been a simple matter to touch the plaque on the tree, which would cause her to enter the room with Vernon where she could then break the curse.”  
          “Why didn’t she?” asked Dudley.  
          “Unfortunately, the tree bearing the plaque had vanished.”  
          “Vanished?” said Dudley in disbelief.  
          “Yes. It had apparently been destroyed in that other world years earlier.  However, Holly knew of another plaque located in the trophy room at Hogwarts,” continued Harry ignoring Dudley’s automatic shutter at the name “Hogwarts.” “So she traveled from Little Winging to London and from there to Hogwarts. Dudley flinched again at the name.  
          “Hogwarts!” whispered Laurel.  
          Harry nodded. He hoped Laurel wouldn’t question the wisdom of sending Holly back to Hogwarts. She would surely guess that Holly was certain to experience more flashbacks by doing so. Harry had been worrying about it all day. Holly had wanted to return to Hogwarts but had they done the right thing? Perhaps it would have been better to send her to Beauxbatons…  
          Harry shoved the thought aside and continued out loud, “Considering Holly was traveling in essentially unfamiliar, hostile territory with no food, money or friends and had no idea the exact location of Hogwarts, the fact that she reached the trophy room in three days is nothing short of miraculous!” He straightened and added softly. “I owe Holly my life! I don’t know what’s going on with these flashbacks, but I swear I will do everything in my power to make this right for her.”  
          In the silence that followed, Harry saw some of the worry seem to melt out of Dudley. “I believe you,” said Dudley quietly.  
          Harry nodded. “I, ah, guess I’ll be leaving now,” he told them; Harry turned, opened the kitchen door and stepped out of the room. Vernon stood on the other side! He stood back hastily at Harry’s presence. Harry thought back quickly on what he had said to Laurel and Dudley. Had he said anything Vernon shouldn’t have heard? No. What had happened during the summer affected the whole family. Vernon had a right to know. Harry nodded silently to Vernon and continued towards the entryway. Behind, Harry heard the sounds of Laurel and Dudley getting out of their chairs. Vernon heard them too and scurried back to his seat on the couch.  
          “Thank you for taking the time to talk with us,” said Laurel and she hurried past Harry to get the door. “Please keep us informed.”  
          Harry nodded. “Good day,” he said and inclined his head politely towards both Laurel and Dudley. “I’ll be in touch,” he said out loud without making any promises as to when or why. He hoped Holly’s problems would be resolved before the holidays, but feared they wouldn’t. Already he was dreading his next meeting with Dudley.

 


	14. Chapter 14

          “Something’s wrong!” muttered Holly worriedly. The three students had made their way up the aisle of three cars when Holly started sensing something off. Holly hadn’t bothered to block when she was alone with Becky and Mark. The emotions behind the closed doors of the berths were sufficiently muted making blocking unnecessary while traveling down the aisles. The stronger emotions Holly had begun to feel meant something was happening in the aisle or at a berth with opened doors. Most of the emotions were muddled: confusion, worry, indignation, fear… But two emotions stood out really strong—hatred and anger—a lot of anger!  
          Holly hastened her step racing to the source of the emotions. She knew the people behind the emotions and had to find out what was going on!  
          Upon entering the next car Holly immediately spied a knot of students standing outside a berth: angry students, Slytherin students! Holly could hear them shouting and yelling and students within were shouting back but she couldn’t understand the words. Without pausing, Holly reached the group and wormed her way between the students into the berth.  
          “What’s going on?” she asked loudly.  
          “Tell them I didn’t do it!” cried Albus noting Holly’s arrival with relief.  
          “He didn’t do it!” replied Holly automatically without even knowing the situation. Albus’ whole body radiated innocence. There was no way he could have done whatever he was accused of.  
          “Yeah, like we’d believe anything you ever said, _Potter!_ ” snarled Tom Richards in total disbelief!  
          “I mean it!” repeated Holly desperately looking over at Richards. “He didn’t do it!” Whatever _it_ was… Richard’s face was splotchy and red. His clothing was spattered with huge red spots as well.  
          “And who did?” he asked suspiciously.  
          Holly looked around her for the first time seeing the other students. In the middle of the berth stood Albus. Taylor O’Daniel, Albus’s friend, James and Lawrence Prescott, James’ friend, stood protectively near Albus, their wands extended defensively. Also crowded in the room were several Slytherin students, their faces, hands and clothes were all splotchy red. Their wands were extended, pointed angrily towards Albus and the rest. In the back corner huddled Lily with her white kitten on her lap. She was sobbing quietly while Rose, her own wand drawn, sat near trying to comfort her.  
          Holly closed her eyes seeking the emotion of guilt. What did she feel? Lily was horribly upset; Rose was protective, worried and distressed. James, Lawrence and Taylor were protective, defiant, tense and watchful. Albus still radiated innocence and the Slytherins, well, they were just plain mad! Beyond the berth, outside in the aisle, Holly could sense curiosity, worry, and anger but no guilt. She opened her eyes.  
          “I don’t know,” concluded Holly miserably. “I, uh, don’t think anyone here did it.”  
          “A likely story,” snorted Anthony Richards in a voice shaking with anger. He stood aggressively next to his brother Tom. His face was almost totally red and not just from anger.  
          “At least you don’t accuse someone else for what Albus did!” said Scorpius Malfoy. His pale face had ugly red patches on it and his blonde hair looked like someone had attempted to dye parts of it bright red.  
          “I didn’t do it!” insisted Albus promptly. His denial brought another surge of anger from the Slytherins.  
          “What happened anyway?” asked Holly swiftly trying to stem the rising emotions around her. She found herself shaking—caught up in emotions bombarding her system and unwilling to try to block least she miss something crucial.  
          “Someone filled a Weasley Smoke bomb with red ink and set it off in our compartment,” said Drusilla Plimpton angrily. Her face and hunter green travelling clothes were all blotchy red.  
          “Not someone—Albus!” asserted Anthony.  
          “It wasn’t me!” reiterated Albus desperately.  
          “You were by the ink!” maintained Scorpius. “We all saw you there.”  
          “That was for another reason!” insisted Albus.  
          “That your only evidence?” questioned Holly. “A lot of people were by the ink. _I_ was by the ink. Why not blame me?”  
          “You ran out without getting anything,” scoffed Tony. “Everyone knows that.”  
          “Albus got mad at Scorpius for asking him if he planned to draw Thestrals!” reported Martina Goyle. Her face had so many red spots on it that it looked as if she had the measles!  
          “And Albus was outside our door right before it happened!” accused Anthony. “I saw him there!”  
          “I was just looking for Holly!” replied Albus defensively. “No one had seen her since she got on the train!”  
          “A likely story from one who sees Thestrals!” said Shirley Ogg derisively. Her face and clothes were speckled and her short curly blonde hair was streaked with red.  
          “He can too see Thestrals!” shouted Lily defensively.  
          “Hush!” murmured Rose protectively. “You’ll make things worse!”  
          “Everyone knows that Weasley ink comes with a bottle of stain removal,” said Plimpton. “That your bag?” she asked Albus indicating the bag nearest Albus. He nodded. Plimpton pointed her wand at the bag. It silently rose and tipped over spilling the contents for all to see. Amongst the jumble of paper, pens, books and Weasley snacks rolled a single bottle prominently labeled “Weasley Stain Remover.”  
          “That’s not mine!” said Albus with an expression of confusion on his face. “Someone must have put it there!” he added desperately.  
          “Where is the ink that belongs to that remover?” Plimpton demanded ignoring Albus’ statement. Holly looked, along with everyone else, but she couldn’t see any other bottles! Even though Holly knew Albus spoke the truth, he looked and sounded guilty and with no accompanying ink bottle, there was no lingering doubt within the Slytherins as to Albus’ guilt.  
          At that moment, the train slammed to a stop and the lights went out!

**_“Expelliarmus!”_ **

_********************_

_Holly immediately crouched down and ducked into the trophy room—or rather, that’s what she tried to do but she couldn’t! Something was stopping her! It was like an invisible wall blocked her way! The spells flew all around her; she could hear them as she knelt at the entrance. She could see the glass trophy cases within shattering from the explosions; the trophies and blocks of ceiling fell in front of her, but she couldn’t enter!_  
_“No!” screamed Holly in desperation! She dropped her wand and flung her arms out and began beating at the entry trying to force her way in. But the “wall” or whatever it was, remained solid. Holly continued beating until the trophy room vanished into blackness. Then she sank down on her knees sobbing in defeat. She had failed!_

********************

          James Potter stood up shakily when the lights returned. Wizard dueling hadn’t prepared him for the free-for-all that had just happened. They just weren’t the same. A steady thumping sound seemed to batter his ears as he tried to take stock of the situation. The Slytherins, he noted with relief had all left at the first opportunity not bothering to see what damage they had wrought… “Everyone O.K.?” he called out while he looked around.  
          “We’re fine,” announced Albus and Taylor. From the corner of his eye James saw Lawrence nod too.  
          “Lily?” he asked worriedly. Unable to see an actual target, James had tried to cast a shield spell protecting those behind him but due to the sudden darkness, he had no idea if it had actually worked.  
          “We’re fine,” announced Rose speaking for both herself and Lily. James was relieved to see Lily nod her head in agreement. What _was_ that thumping sound?  
          “James?” added Rose in a worried voice. “Look!” He turned his head in the direction Rose indicated and saw Holly, kneeling on the floor, with both hands clenched in fists, banging repeatedly against the back wall of the railcar!  
          “Holly!” exclaimed Becky running past James and kneeling besides Holly. “Are you O.K.?” Her hands reached out past the loudly purring cat that rubbed repeatedly against Holly's body and touched Holly on the shoulders. Holly flinched immediately. Her hands fell down by her sides; she curled up into a tight ball and started moaning softly. The cat purred louder and moved back and forth even faster.  
          “What’s wrong?” asked Lily voicing the question on everyone’s mind.  
          “I don’t know,” replied James worriedly. “Is she hurt?” he asked Becky.  
          “She doesn’t look it,” replied Becky. She was hovering anxiously over Holly. “But I can’t tell.” Becky reached out and touched Holly again. Holly didn’t flinch this time but seemed to curl up tighter.  
          “What kind of spell would cause her to do that?” asked Mark speculatively coming up for a closer look at Holly. James shook his head. He didn’t know. Whatever it was wasn’t something he’d ever learned in class.  
          “I think,” began Becky hesitantly looking up at them, “that she is having a “flashback.”  
          “A flashback?” said James incredulously. “You sure?” Dad had mentioned something about flashbacks with Holly but the one he had seen that morning had looked nothing like this! Then again, Holly had had someplace to run…  
          “They’re, um, unpredictable and not always the same thing,” added Mark bending down over Holly and tentatively placing his hand on her shoulder. “Holly?” he began softly. “Can you hear me?”  
          “They’re dead!” moaned Holly in a hollow voice. “All dead. I’ve failed.”  
_“It had to be a flashback!”_ thought James. No one was dead and she hadn’t failed. Holly sounded just as Albus had when he first realized he could see Thestrals! That was not good.  
          “Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!” boomed the loud voice of Hagrid. With a start James looked over at Lily who was coming to Hogwarts for the first time.  
          He stepped over to Lily who was still seated in the corner with her cat circling round and round anxiously on her lap. “Lily?” he said bending down to meet her at eye level. “Would you mind terribly if I missed your sorting?” He glanced significantly over at Holly.  
          “You’re going to stay with Holly?” she asked.  
          “Yes,” he replied quietly.  
          “I want to stay too.”  
          “Of course you do,” agreed James gently. “We all do, but we’re not all needed to help Holly. You’ve got to be sorted, Lily,” he reminded her. “This is a special day for you and you shouldn’t miss it.”  
          “I’ll be there to watch,” volunteered Rose. “So you won’t be alone.”  
          “And Albus,” assured James.  
          “I’m staying,” said Albus stubbornly. His face was pale and set determinedly.  
          “No,” argued James quietly. Having had a prior experience with “the room” James could guess how important it was for Albus to stay, but it wasn’t a good idea. Not this time. “The Slytherins are still mad,” he explained. “If you don’t show, they’ll claim that as proof of your guilt; that you were ashamed or too embarrassed to appear. Lawrence,” he added, “I don’t know how long we’ll be. Could you take my things to the dorms and let Professor Longbottom know we’ll be late?”  
          “Sure,” replied Lawrence. “Come on!” he said to Albus and he started lifting the bags off the shelf. Albus reluctantly began to help. Silently Rose and Lily started grabbing their things too.  
          “There’s no reason for you to remain either,” James told Mark and Becky. “I’ll stay with Holly and see that she gets to school safely.”  
          “We’re staying,” said Mark firmly and Becky nodded in agreement.  
          “Mr. Potter asked us to stay with Holly until she gets to Hogwarts and we intend to do that,” added Becky.  
_“He had?”_ thought James in amazement. Had dad known something like this would happen? Why hadn’t he said anything to them? _“Well,”_ amended James mentally, _“dad had said to “keep an eye out for her” but nothing that would lead him to expect this!”_ James nodded his head in agreement. Company would be nice especially if, as he suspected, they knew more of what was going on with Holly than he. “Very well,” James said out loud, “but perhaps you should find someone to carry yours and Holly’s things to the school.”  
          Mark nodded. “I’ll go,” he told Becky and swiftly exited the berth.  
          “Last call for firs’ years!” shouted Hagrid.  
          “Hurry!” James urged Lily who now stood uncertainly at the doorway with her bags in her arms. “And good luck!” He gave her a swift hug. “Tell me all about it later,” he whispered in her ear.  
          “I will,” assured Lily and she followed Rose and Albus off the car.  
          “Don’t forget this!” James told Lawrence handing him his daypack. “Look after Albus!” he added when Albus was out of hearing.  
          “I will,” said Lawrence as he took the pack. “See you later.”

********************

          “Holly? Holly, can you hear me?” said Becky when the others had left. Holly didn’t answer.  
          James moved closer, knelt down next to Becky and studied Holly. She was still curled up tightly with her head buried in her arms oblivious even of her cat, which still paced anxiously around her. “Holly?” said James softly adding his voice to Becky’s. Holly didn’t move. James reached out and touched Holly. She flinched and seemed to curl tighter into her ball.  
          “What’ll we do?” asked Becky worriedly. “Holly never described anything like this!”  
          James shook his head. He had no idea either. “I suppose we could carry her off the train,” he began hesitantly. “But--”  
          “How is she?” asked Mark returning to the car.  
          “Go away!” commanded Holly suddenly.  
          “What?” said Mark surprised, “Why?”  
          “They’re dead!” Holly informed him. “I want to die too!”  
          “Who’s dead?” asked Becky but Holly didn’t answer.  
          “Who’s dead?” asked Mark repeating Becky’s question.  
          “Mum, dad, Vernon, Becky, the Headmaster…” answered Holly dully.  
          “I’m not dead!” protested Becky but Holly didn’t respond.  
          “Becky’s not dead,” informed Mark. And James suddenly realized suddenly that for some reason Holly did not seem to hear Becky! She acted as if Becky wasn’t even there!  
          “Yes, she is,” insisted Holly.  
          “How do you know?” asked James. But Holly didn’t answer.  
          “How do you know?” echoed Mark.  
          “I called,” Holly said hollowly, “and the operator said there were no Smiths living in Sudbury! None in Suffolk! _None!_ Becky’s dead!” she repeated dully.  
          “Oh, Holly,” said Becky sorrowfully reaching down and grabbing one of Holly’s hands. “I’m here! Can’t you hear me? Feel me? Sense my presence?” But Holly’s only response was to pull her hand away from Becky and clasp it tightly in her own.  
          “She doesn’t seem to realize Becky is there,” commented Mark quietly stating the obvious as he studied Holly.  
          “Your parents aren’t dead!” James argued. They had to somehow convince Holly she was wrong. “Vernon isn’t dead either,” James assured Holly. “He and Albus went to Chessington, remember? And you fixed up that ring to give him right before you left for London… He’s not dead, Holly, honest!”  
          “I’m not sure she hears you either,” Mark added looking at Holly’s unresponsive form.  
          James looked at Mark thoughtfully. It made sense in a weird sort of way. Becky was a Muggle-born and James knew Lord Voldemort targeted Mudbloods and as for himself, well, without dad, he wouldn’t be there either. "But she can hear you,” James said to Mark, “so you’ve got to do the talking—we’ve got to talk her out of this somehow.” He didn’t know if they were doing the right thing arguing with Holly but getting her to talk had to be something.  
          “Your dad took you to the station, remember?” contributed Mark.  
          “You didn’t fail, Holly,” insisted Becky. “You broke the curse!” She looked at Mark expectantly when Holly didn’t respond.  
          “You didn’t fail, Holly,” repeated Mark. “You broke the curse!”  
          “The Headmaster’s dead,” replied Holly desolately.  
          “Yes,” agreed Mark solemnly. “He’s dead. But he gave you this to remember him by.” Mark bent down and picked up the honey colored wand that had been lying on the floor. James had never seen the wand before; it wasn’t the one Holly usually used. James couldn’t imagine Holly having two wands all this time but Mark seemed to recognize it and its significance. Mark pushed the wand between Holly’s clasped hands and wrapped his own hands around hers forcing Holly to hold it. “And he wouldn’t have given it to you if he wasn’t sure you’d succeed and save everyone else,” he added persuasively. “You didn’t fail, Holly. You broke the curse and they’re alive! Becky’s alive!”  
           Mark removed his hands from Holly and Holly fingers tightened around the wand holding it for herself. “Headmaster Snape gave Holly this wand to help her escape from the room,” explained Mark in a low voice to James. “She’s never without it.”  
          Slowly Holly seemed to uncurl. She continued to clutch the wand tightly with both hands but she looked up at Becky with tears streaming down her eyes. “I’m so sorry!” Holly whispered to Becky. “I never wrote you because I was afraid you wouldn’t write back!”  
          “Of course I would,” insisted Becky.  
          “No,” maintained Holly, “I know you were supposed to be alive but deep inside I was still afraid you wouldn’t write back— _couldn’t_ write back—weren’t _there_ to write back and I’ve felt so alone…”  
          Becky wrapped her arms around Holly in a tight hug. “You’re not alone,” she assured Holly. “Not ever!” Almost of its own accord, one of Holly’s hands let go of the wand. Still grasping the wand in one hand, Holly’s arms wound around Becky returning the hug. James could hear the muffled sounds of sobbing between them. Then he heard and felt the train rumble to life and start a slow roll.  
          “Uh,” began James uncomfortably, “I hate to interrupt things but I think we’d best get going…” James stood up, stretched out his hands and drew both Holly and Becky to a stand.  
          Holly looked around as if seeing the compartment for the first time. “My things?” she began questioningly.  
          “Already taken care of,” assured Mark. “Come on,” he encouraged. “We need to get off now!”  
          The four hurried out the compartment and down the corridor. James pulled open the train door. Holding Holly’s hand firmly in his, he jumped onto the platform. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Becky scoop up Sasha and then she and Mark followed jumping out and rolling a bit as they landed. The train continued on its way and soon disappeared from view.

*********************

          “Where is everyone?” asked Holly as she stood and looked around.  
          “They’ve all gone on ahead,” replied James Potter while he dusted himself off.  
          “The carriages?”  
          “Them too,” said Mark. “We’ll have to walk. This way,” and he pointed towards the road that led to Hogwarts.  
          “Walk!” said Holly with a rising note of concern. “Oh no! I couldn’t do that! That’s what I did last time!”  
_“Last time?!!!”_ thought James. _“What the heck had happened during the summer?”_  
          “But only from the gate,” reminded Mark. “This is from the station. Totally different!”  
          “And last time it was in the daylight,” said Becky encouragingly. “And you were alone! We’ll be with you! You’ll be fine!”  
          “But the dementors!” said Holly in a panic. “They’ll be waiting for us!”  
          “There are no dementors at Hogwarts,” assured James.  
          “No!” insisted Holly. “They’re everywhere and they’ll come for us!”  
          Before his eyes James could see reality seem to slip from Holly’s face. The fear in her eyes was real and James was certain Holly was on the verge of running off as she had done in the morning! “If there are any dementors,” he said quickly. “Then I shall use my patronus spell to chase them off!”  
          Almost immediately, the fear was replaced by interest. “You can do the patronus spell?” Holly asked with wonder.  
          “Yes, sort of,” said James proudly. “I’ve been working on it with dad over the summer.”  
          “Will you teach it to me?”  
          “I suppose I can try,” replied James reluctantly while wondering if he knew it well enough to teach. “But it isn’t an easy spell to learn...” He started walking casually down the lane.  
          “That’s O.K.,” said Holly eagerly and she joined James keeping pace. Becky and Mark followed behind quietly. They lit their wands and held them up providing light while Holly continued talking, her fears momentarily forgotten. “I want to learn the patronus spell no matter what it takes,” she said determinedly. “Cousin Harry says the patronus spell is the only thing that is effective against dementors and I _really_ don’t like dementors!”

********************

          By the time they came in sight of the huge pillars on either side of the Hogwarts gates, Holly, Mark and Becky had a good idea of what was involved in casting a patronus spell. What they needed now was practice, lots of practice—and maybe a boggart or two. But that could come later.  
          Holly had also calmed down sufficiently for James Potter to get a better picture of what kind of “flashbacks” she had been having. As usual, dad had understated things considerably...   
          Then Becky wondered out loud if the Patronus spell was good for anything except against dementors. “Well, a Patronus can supposedly send messages as good as an owl if you know how to do it,” James replied, “maybe even better.” And he related the family story about how Kingsley Shacklebolt had sent a Patronus to Uncle Bill and Fleur’s wedding with the news that the “Ministry had fallen” enabling everyone to get away safely before the Death Eaters arrived.  
          James was relieved to note the huge wrought iron gates hung open as if inviting them within. He had been worried about what to do should the gates be closed and locked as they usually were during the school year. When the group got closer, a yellow light winked on as someone moved out from behind a pillar. James recognized the tall figure beneath the lit wand coming towards them as Professor Longbottom.

*********************

          Holly Wycliff easily sensed the presence of Professor Longbottom before he came out from behind the pillar carrying a basket. He didn’t practice Occlumency so his emotions were easy to read. Initially, the Professor was just worried. Then he was relieved, probably when he heard their arrival, but still remained very, very worried.  
          At first, Holly was afraid that the sullen dirty face of Kreacher would somehow loom eerily through the body of Professor Longbottom when he stepped up towards them from the gate. She was most relieved when it didn’t happen. Holly pushed aside her own worries of “flashbacks” and focused on what the Professor was saying.  
          “…Gryffindor.”  
          “That’s great!” said James sincerely.  
          “But it took the Sorting Hat a very long time to come to that decision,” he added. “No doubt she had a lot on her mind at the time.” He looked significantly at Holly. “You all right?”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly evenly. She felt fine now, just tired and hungry. “Sorry to have caused so much trouble.”  
          “Couldn’t be helped,” he said philosophically. “Here,” said the Professor and he held out the basket he was carrying. It was filled with sandwiches. “Top one’s yours, I think,” he said to Holly.  
          “Thank you,” she said enthusiastically grabbing the first sandwich and taking a bite without hesitation—tomato and Swiss cheese, not a bad combination especially when hungry.  
          “Have one,” the Professor offered holding the basket out to James, Mark and Becky. They each reached eagerly in, grabbed a sandwich and began eating. They were all pretty hungry too. “I should be deducting House points from all of you for fighting on the train,” he told them as they ate, “but the Slytherins deny anything happened.”  
          “Oh,” said James in between bites.  
          “I should also take away House points for arriving late,” continued the Professor, “but I received this note from the Headmistress...” He looked again at Holly. She gulped and could feel her face begin to burn without him saying anything. “I presume you’re the reason everyone here missed the last carriage?”  
          “Yes, sir, I guess so,” replied Holly softly looking down and feeling thoroughly embarrassed.  
          “The note says you're to be given special consideration should you act in an odd or unusual fashion. As this would seem to be one of those occasions, I guess you’re excused.”  
          “Thank you, sir,” Holly said softly, “but I don’t want to be treated different. I would rather take whatever punishment you are giving the others.”  
          “Hmm,” said Professor Longbottom thoughtfully. “The note also says that Miss Wycliff is not to travel around Hogwarts alone. Had the rest of you taken a carriage and been on time, that would have left Miss Wycliff alone which is unacceptable so I would say you are all excused for being late, this time…” Holly could feel relief sweep through the group. “Oh yes,” added Professor Longbottom again looking directly at Holly, “Madam Pomfrey told me to remind you to stop by the infirmary before going to the dorms.”  
          “Yes, sir,” said Holly meekly wishing she could just forget about her flashback problems.  
          “We’d best get going,” he told them and they all walked forward pausing momentarily while the Professor used his wand to cause the gates to swing shut and lock. “You need help carrying anything?” asked Professor Longbottom while they continued up the hill. Holly sensed it was not a casual question.  
          “No, sir,” replied James as he finished his sandwich. “Lawrence brought my things.  
          “That’s what he said,” confirmed the Professor. “I just had to check.”  
          “Why?”  
          “That bottle of ink remover,” he began, “seems to have disappeared. Did any of you happen to pick it up?”  
          “No, sir,” replied James. “At least I didn’t. I remember seeing it on the floor before the lights went out, but I wasn’t really watching when Albus and the others left. I don’t know who picked it up,” he confessed.  
          “Albus claims he didn't pick it up either,” replied the Professor. “He doesn’t remember seeing it in the compartment after the lights came back on and it wasn’t in his bags—it wasn’t in any of the bags,” he added. “We checked them all—Lily’s included. Do you suppose the bottle got knocked around and is still in the compartment somewhere?”  
          “Possibly,” said James slowly, “but I don’t see how. The compartment looked empty when we left. Did you or Mark see anything?” he asked Becky.  
          “No,” said Becky thoughtfully, “but we weren’t looking either…” She glanced over at Mark and he nodded in agreement.  
          “Well,” said the Professor, “I’ve sent a message to have the whole train searched when it arrives in London but I have a feeling they won’t find it.”  
          “Maybe one of the Slytherins picked it up before they left…” suggested Mark.  
          “They say not,” replied the Professor.  
          “Did you search all their bags?” asked James.  
          “Unfortunately no,” replied Professor Longbottom, “but I’m inclined to believe them. The Slytherins are a proud group. They went through the sorting and dinner with their faces all spotted. That had to be incredibly embarrassing; if they didn’t know before, the whole school now knows what happened. At the moment, the Slytherins are rather angry and they’re blaming all the Gryffindors in general and especially Albus!”  
          “But that’s not fair!” exclaimed Holly. “He didn’t do it!”  
          “So you say,” agreed the Professor, “but in the absence of the true culprit, they’re directing all their anger at Albus and anyone connected to him. Watch your step,” he told James. “All of you,” he added looking directly at Mark, Becky and Holly.  
          “Can’t you just get another bottle of ink remover?” asked Becky.  
          “In a day or two,” replied Professor Longbottom. “George always takes his vacation now. It’ll take a while to locate a bottle and get it flown in.”  
          “Madam Pince should have some,” said Holly suddenly. Madam Pince was the librarian. “She had used it to erase some ink that dripped on Susan last year.”  
          “Unfortunately, all her bottles of ink remover seem to be missing,” replied the Professor.  
          “But that means someone must have deliberately taken the ink remover bottle and kept it from the Slytherins!” exclaimed Mark.  
          “It does seem that way,” agreed the Professor.  
          “Who would do such a thing and why?” asked Becky.  
          “Those are very good questions,” replied Professor Longbottom. “Regrettably, I don’t know the answers.”  
          “It’s probably the same person that set off the bomb in the first place,” replied James darkly. “I know he didn’t do it but all the evidence pointed to Albus,” he added. “Someone obviously doesn’t like Albus and wanted to get him into trouble…”

********************

          When they drew close to the entry steps Holly looked up apprehensively. Were there dementors hovering overhead?  
          “See anything?” asked Becky noting Holly’s glance and recognizing its reason.  
          “No,” said Holly with relief, “but then it’s dark and they’re dark. Maybe you can’t see them at night…”  
          “You can’t see them at all because they’re not here!” said James firmly.  
          “Even if you do,” added Mark quietly, “they’re not really there so they can’t hurt you.” He moved up supportively on Holly’s other side. “Come on!” he urged.  
_“You just come along with me, Missy,”_ a cheerful voice whispered in Holly’s ear. Holly started and looked around. She knew that voice but couldn’t quite place it.  
          “What is it?” asked Becky instantly concerned.  
          “I, uh,” Holly frowned as she tried to remember. Her stomach gave a sudden lurch! “I think I’m gonna be sick!” she exclaimed. Holly tore away from the group and made for the nearest bushes on the side of the castle where she promptly threw up everything she had just eaten.

*********************

          “It’s not fair!” complained Holly to Becky in a whisper afterwards. “I barely saw the guy! Didn’t even remember him saying that to me! But I remember his emotions! He was gleeful, malicious, callus, calculating and just plain disgusting! Knowing what I know now, he was intent on making trouble for the Headmaster! How am I going to make it around school if I’ve gotta listen to _him_ every day?”  
          “Who says you’re going to hear him every day?” countered Becky confidently as she knelt besides Holly. “This is probably a one time thing!”  
          “But what if it isn’t?” said Holly in a panic.  
          “Then the next time you hear his voice tell him to “sod off!” and forget about him and his emotions ‘cause he’s not around any more!” Becky helped Holly to her feet and the two returned to the others who had been waiting quietly by the entrance.  
          “You O.K?” asked Mark worriedly.  
          “Yeah,” replied Holly suddenly embarrassed by the concerned emotions surrounding her. “It was nothing, just, ah, something that didn’t agree with me. But not the food…” she quickly stammered, embarrassed even more suddenly remembering that the person who had given her the food was standing there too…  
          “More like some _one_ ,” corrected Becky wryly.  
          “Uh, yeah,” agreed Holly not wanting to explain further.  
          “Hmmm,” said Professor Longbottom thoughtfully. Holly could tell he was filled with questions. “This also related to that note I received?”  
          “Yes, sir. I guess so,” replied Holly suddenly grateful for the notice. It meant she maybe wouldn’t have to explain further.  
          “Is it likely to happen again?”  
          “I don’t know, sir, maybe...”  
          “Well, then it’s a good thing that you have Herbology _before_ lunch this year,” he said dryly. “You’ll have less to throw up and more appetite for lunch afterwards!” Becky smothered a giggle and Holly managed a faint smile at his attempted humor. “You up to continuing?” he added.  
          “I’ll try, sir.”  
          “Then let’s get you inside. I believe Madam Pomfrey is waiting.”

*********************

          Pettigrew maintained a steady “chatter” in Holly’s head the moment she started the stairs. This time, however, Holly was ready. She got Becky and Mark to carry on a nonstop conversation while they climbed. Their continual patter gave Holly something to focus on and served to drown out most of Pettigrew’s words. Holly had to ask them to stop after the third floor, however; all the noise was giving her a headache.  
          The three continued on in silence, or rather, Mark and Becky were silent. Pettigrew continued on talking in an annoying squeaky voice interspersing words of encouragement (" _Just a few more steps, Missy; you can do it!_ ") between anticipated delightful revenge ( _"Just wait until he sees her…_ "). Holly gritted her teeth the whole way, forcing herself to not react to what she heard in her head. She eventually made it up the stairs without incident.  
          Holly left the stairs and “Pettigrew” with considerable relief. She stepped into the infirmary accompanied by Becky and Mark.  
          Madam Pomfrey welcomed the trio with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you have made it to school safely,” she told them.  
          “Yes, ma’am, thank you ma’am,” said Holly politely.  
          “I got a notice from Healer Winonan about some things we need to discuss,” began Madam Pomfrey hesitantly while glancing at Becky and Mark. It was clear she was uncertain what she should say in front of them.  
          “Yes, ma’am, I know,” replied Holly quietly, “but if you don’t mind, could we talk about all this some other time? It’s been a long day and I’m really, really, tired. I’m just not up to discussing, uh, medical things right now.”  
          “It _is_ rather late,” agreed Madam Pomfrey. “Shall we say tomorrow right after dinner?”  
          “Yes, ma’am, thank you,” said Holly gratefully. The three left the infirmary and continued on to the dorms. Surprisingly, Holly didn’t hear Pettigrew as she descended the stairs while returning to the fifth floor. She breathed a sigh of relief when they walked through corridors to their dorm. At least Pettigrew wasn’t everywhere. Surely she could stand it if he was just on the stairs…  
          They reached the familiar portrait of the Angry Judge. He turned at their arrival and snarled: “Password!”  
          “Let me!” said Mark eagerly. And he straightened up in front of the portrait, adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began:

   _There once was a judge with a face,_  
_Who looked ready to spray us with mace._  
_So we told him a joke,_  
_That amused all the folk,_  
_And he opened the door to the place!_  

          Mark turned and bowed stiffly to Holly and Becky. Holly smiled and Becky applauded warmly.  
          The Judge frowned. “What kind of a joke is that?” he asked.  
          “It’s a limerick!” said Mark proudly. “Limericks are humorous poems. I composed it just for you!”  
          “Well,” he said uncertainly, “it’s not all that funny, but it does show creativity… Come on in,” he said with a smile and the people in the courtroom applauded as the door swung open.  
          “Told you he’d like it!” said Mark smugly to Becky as they walked in.

 *********************

          The Hufflepuffs were all seated in the Common room in the midst of their House meeting. Prefect Gwen Feinstein was conducting it. She looked up with obvious relief at their arrival. “You’ve made it!” she said warmly. “Are you all right?”  
          “Yeah, of course I am,” retorted Holly Wycliff sharply; she was tired of questions. Gwen didn’t say anything, but Holly could immediately tell Gwen had been stung by her words. “We’re fine,” Holly added more softly suddenly realizing the question had been meant for all of them, not just her.  
          “Have a seat,” invited Gwen indicating an empty space next to Susan that was large enough for the three of them. “We’re just finishing up.”  
          “Sorry for snapping so,” Holly apologized after the three took their seats. “I wasn’t thinking. It’s just been a really long day and I’m kind of tired.”   
          “Of course it has,” agreed Gwen. “And it _is_ late.” Holly could tell the apology made Gwen feel better. “Which brings us to the last thing on the list. It has to do with this notice I received from Professor Iverson about you, Holly…” Professor Iverson was their House Professor. Gwen looked directly at Holly, her warm brown eyes mirroring the concern within. Holly could feel everyone’s eyes and minds suddenly directed on her… “I presume you know what it’s about.” Holly nodded uncomfortably distinctly aware of being the center of attention. Then she stared down at the gold and black-carpeted floor unwilling to look at anyone. “Would your being late have anything to do with this note?” Gwen asked.  
          Holly could feel her face warm. “Yeah,” she muttered, “but I don’t want to talk about it!”  
          “Of course not,” replied Gwen in an easy voice. But Holly could feel the intense curiosity behind it. “When you’re ready,” she continued, “we’ll be happy to listen to you. In the meantime,” she told the group, “the note had a message from Healer Winonan. He said Holly is not to go anywhere outside the dorms unless accompanied by at least one other person.” That sparked the curiosity of everyone. Holly felt her face colour even more, if possible. Gwen continued. “Winonan didn’t explain further,” she said, “but apparently it’s for Holly’s safety.” There was considerable stirring around the room. Holly ducked her head lower and wished there was a rock nearby where she could crawl under and hide! “I know you’re all curious,” Gwen finished, “but as it’s a medical thing, we’re not to inquire further… Any questions?”  
          “Yeah, but none we can ask,” joked Marcy Huckaby good-naturedly. The others laughed in agreement.  
          “Any questions I can answer,” amended Gwen with a smile. Hearing none, she finished by saying, “So remember, work hard, do your best and if we help each other _we can do anything_.” The last part was said by the group, as a whole, Holly included. After which, the meeting broke up.

********************

          “Holly?”  
          “Yes?” Holly looked up into the tearful eyes of Lynette and Carrie. Holly had been seated on her bed skimming through her schoolbooks and looking over the class schedule. Sasha was curled up next to Holly purring contentedly.  
          “We’re sorry,” blurted Lynette looking woefully sad.  
          “Yes,” said Carrie equally sorrowful. “We didn’t know you knew him,”  
          “Or that he helped you somehow,” added Lynette. “We shouldn’t have said those things about Headmaster Snape…”  
          “That’s O.K.,” replied Holly. The incident about Headmaster Snape seemed like ages ago. “I know you didn’t mean to upset me.”  
          “Wi—will you forgive us?” said Lynette tearfully.  
          “Of course,” replied Holly sincerely. “I’m over it now,” she assured them as she reached out and drew the two girls onto the bed next to her. “I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did,” Holly sighed and gave the two girls a warm hug letting them know all was well between them. It wasn’t their fault she had such skewed up memories.

**********


	15. Chapter 15

          “Are you ready yet?” called Mark from the common room.  
          “Just about!” shouted Becky. “Did you hear that voice in the right ear or the left?” she asked Holly.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Holly sullenly. “It was just there.” She didn’t want to talk about Pettigrew! She just wanted to forget. Writing a journal for Healer Winonan had sounded easy when it only involved Roland, Mrs. Figg and a train station, but not when it included everything else that had gone on the last two days. It was too much!  
         An exhausted Holly had gone to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow waking only due to Becky’s persistent shaking in the morning. Then Becky had discovered the unopened journal lying on the nightstand… Sensing Holly’s reluctance to make entries, Becky volunteered to start it up. Holly hadn’t argued. Becky cheerfully wrote down the flashbacks Holly had related to them the previous day adding to that what had occurred after getting on the train. “I’ll leave space so you can add on more specific details later,” she assured Holly. Not that Holly ever intended to. Writing it all down would, in effect, make her relive it all again and Holly wanted to forget what had happened on the train.  
          When Becky finished, the two joined Mark. He led the way out of the dorms. “The way I figure it,” began Mark as they walked down the corridor. “Holly need only worry about having “flashbacks” on the third and the seventh floor —that’s where she visited during the summer.”  
          “And the stairs,” reminded Becky.  
          “The stairs themselves haven’t changed any,” replied Mark, “and nobody else was on them so if Holly sees “flashbacks” of the stairs, it shouldn’t make any difference.”  
          “But the voices?” said Becky worriedly.  
          “Only on the way up,” said Mark confidently. “And that’s only if she hears them again. Pettigrew walked Holly _up_ the stairs. But Holly didn’t hear anything last night when she started _down_ the stairs. So I think we need only worry about him when she goes upstairs… And then it’s just a voice. It should be easy enough to ignore.”  
          “Easy for you to say,” muttered Holly grimly. Pettigrew’s high-pitched squeaky voice was nothing she wanted to hear again.  
          “We may not have to worry about Pettigrew at all once the stairs fill with students,” continued Mark hopefully. “The stairs were empty last night, just like they were during the summer. Maybe conditions have to be just right for the flashbacks to occur… Divination is our first class of the day,” he mused, “and that’s at the top of the North Tower, i.e. a lot of steps _up_ so we’ll see how that works out.”  
          Holly sighed in dismay. She had no interest in Divination. She had signed up for the class purely because Mark and Becky had. It never occurred to her class location could mean so much.

 ********************

          True to Mark’s predictions, Holly didn’t hear any voices on the way down the stairs. Upon entering the Great Hall, however, it became immediately apparent that flashbacks weren’t Holly’s only problem. The whole Hall seethed with strong emotions. Holly had to block immediately just to get to the Hufflepuff table. Looking around she saw nine students seated proudly at the center of the Slytherin table with bright scarlet spots decorating their faces and hands. She didn’t need to read emotions to tell they were angry. Even blocking, Holly could sense that all the Slytherins were seething with suppressed rage.  
          On the other side of the Hall, sat the Gryffindors. The expressions on their faces said it all; they were upset, defensive, and protective. Collectively, the Ravenclaws looked curious, worried, watchful and wary.  
          Keeping her head down, Holly ate swiftly and urged Becky and Mark to do the same. She hurried her two friends impatiently getting them to leave the Great Hall as soon as possible. Once outside, Holly breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be away from the emotional onslaught.  
          Next, the trio began the long hike up several flights of stairs to the Divination room. To Holly’s intense dismay, Pettigrew came along. This time Holly couldn’t help but mutter out loud the words she kept hearing.  
          “Who is this guy Pettigrew!” exclaimed Becky when they finally got off the seventh floor landing. She had been appalled at the kind of things he was apparently telling Holly. “I’ve never heard of him before!”  
          “Well,” began Holly while they stopped for a rest, “Cousin Harry says he betrayed his mum and dad to Lord Voldemort.”  
          “That’s not what the history books says,” put in Mark. “I looked him up last night. The book said he died shortly after James and Lily Potter’s death in an explosion that killed several Muggles. Sirius Black is credited for having done it.  
          “That can’t be right,” said Becky.  
          “It isn’t,” affirmed Holly. “Rose said Sirius was falsely accused and Cousin Harry was trying to find a way to clear his name when he died. I saw Pettigrew alive so Sirius couldn’t have killed him.”  
          “Harry Potter mentions Pettigrew in his account of Lord Voldemort’s return,” continued Mark. “He said Pettigrew cut off his own hand as part of dark spell to give Lord Voldemort a body...”  
          “Ewewww!” put in Becky giving an unconscious shiver.  
          “...and then Lord Voldemort gave him a new hand out of silver," finished Mark ignoring Becky's outburst. "But the Ministry said that account was pure fabrication.”  
          “He had the silver hand,” Holly said firmly. “I saw it. It was all shiny but I just thought it was a weird kind of glove.”  
          “What kind of person would cut off his own hand like that?” mused Becky.  
          “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” replied Holly grimly. “Come on,” she added and started moving down the corridor. “Lets get to class. I want to meet the new professor. What’s he supposed to be like?”  
          “She,” corrected Mark automatically. “Professor Sybill Trelawney. She’s been here, like, ages. Probably even before Harry Potter!”  
          “She must be pretty good to be teaching here that long,” mused Becky.  
          “You’d think so,” agreed Mark, “but the comments are rather conflicting about whether or not she’s a “good” professor.”  
          The Hufflepuffs kept a journal book on every professor that ever taught at Hogwarts. Each book contained comments and recommendations by previous students, tips on how best to pass a particular class when taught by that particular professor. Some entries were pretty brief such as, “Don’t ever copy in his class!” or “Likes it when you do extra credit.” Others were fairly detailed such as the list of assignments for Professor Binns along with recommended reference sources and the minimum length per paper that was likely to receive a passing score…  
          The books were enchanted in such a way that the last page was always blank. When an entry was made on that page, a new “blank” page appeared at the end of the book. The books expanded in size as more pages were added. Some books, like that of a Professor Lockhart and a Professor Lupin, were very slender indeed. Other books, like “Professor” Dumbledore’s, and Professor Flitwick’s, were fairly thick.  
          There was even an entry containing Holly’s name. Lynette showed it to her eagerly last year. It was in the journal about Professor Slughorn. It read: _Professor Slughorn really likes Holly Wycliff. If you need to ask anything of Professor Slughorn after class, be sure to take Holly with you…_ That explained why a gaggle of first years had once asked Holly to accompany them to see Professor Slughorn last year. They wanted to request an extension on the due date of a particularly difficult research assignment. Professor Slughorn had smiled dreamily at Holly while the students talked and granted their request without hesitation.  
          “Most of the comments in Professor Trelawney book imply she scores fairly easily and there are a lot of suggestions on what to do if you just don’t “see” anything after attempting her assignments,” added Mark. “I get the impression a lot of that happens.”  
          “Well, that makes sense,” mused Holly, “I don’t suppose just anybody can determine the future accurately or else more people would. I always thought fortune-telling was sort of a hereditary thing.”  
          “It could be,” agreed Mark, “but nobody knows for sure. People who claim to be seers usually call it a “gift.”  
          “So why bother teaching Divination?” asked Becky. “I can’t imagine how one goes about teaching a “gift.” And if nobody is likely to learn anything what’s the use?”  
          “A good question,” said Holly. “Why don’t we ask Albus?”  
          “Albus?” repeated Becky with raised eyebrows.  
          “Yes,” said Holly quietly. “Albus and Taylor are just around the corner.” She had sensed the two up ahead earlier as they walked. Involving Albus in their conversation was Holly’s way of letting Mark and Becky know they were no longer alone.  
           “Hi ya, Albus,” said Mark as they rounded the corner. Albus and Taylor looked up at the words. They stood in the middle of the corridor and seemed to be looking at the paintings on the wall. “You taking Divination too?”  
          “Uh, yeah,” replied Albus. “We were, uh, just trying to figure out which way to go…” He indicated a narrow passageway in the middle of the corridor that angled sharply left. “We’re supposed to go to the North Tower and that way looks like it is heading north.”  
          “Well, let’s see,” said Mark confidently. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and studied it carefully. Albus and Taylor peered over Mark’s shoulder.  
          “That’s a map to Divination class!” observed Albus impressed.  
          “’Course,” returned Mark promptly. “I didn’t want us to get lost or late on the first day to class.” He studied the map. “As I thought,” he added after careful consideration. “We need to keep on going straight. This particular passage leads to the sixth floor and that’s not much use to us right now.” Mark refolded the map and put it back into his pocket.  
          “Have you got maps to all the classes?” asked Taylor with interest when the group resumed their walking.  
          “Uh huh,” affirmed Mark. “But you can only look at maps for the classes you are taking. That way you don’t learn the secret locations of the more advanced classes unless you need to.”  
          “Oh,” said Albus.  
          “Where’s Rose?” asked Holly conversationally as they walked.  
          “She was still eating when we left,” replied Albus. “I, uh, wasn’t feeling very hungry.”  
          “Me neither,” confessed Holly. “Those Slytherins,” she added with a shiver. “They kind of take one’s appetite away.”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Albus. “The looks I get from them—well, if looks could kill, I’d be dead by now! It wouldn’t be so bad if I had actually done what they accuse me of but I didn’t so that makes it even worse! You sure you don’t know who did it?” he asked Holly.  
          “Not a clue,” frowned Holly. “But I’ll keep looking.”  
          “Professor Longbottom says we should be getting some stain removal bottles some time tonight so maybe this’ll be all over by tomorrow,” said Taylor.  
          “I hope so,” said Holly. She remembered guiltily the purple ink stain she had given the person who was stealing Vernon’s mail… He must have been furious! Holly was glad Cousin Harry had helped him get rid of it. Holly hoped the guy wouldn’t give Vernon problems this year.  
          The group continued along the corridor. Having never been down this particular corridor before, Holly looked with interest at the various pictures that lined the walls on either side. The people in the portraits looked back at the group with equal interest. Mark called a halt when they came to a narrow spiraling staircase. He pulled out his map to double check and then confidently stated, “Up!”  
          The group mounted the stairs single file with Becky leading the way. They emerged onto a tiny landing area with no other doors. On the ceiling was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque that read: Sybill Trelawney, Divination.  
          “Now what?” wondered Taylor out loud.  
          “Now, we wait,” answered Mark. He selected a section of wall and sat down leaning his back against the wall.  
          “We wait?” asked Albus, dismayed.  
          “Yes,” replied Mark. “The notes say that Professor Trelawney will lower the ladder to the room exactly 5 minutes before the time when class is supposed to begin. Later on, she’ll have ladder down regularly for private meetings but not on the first day.”  
          He pulled out his book for Divination class, _Unfogging the Future_ , opened it and began to read. Becky, following his lead, sat down too and pulled out her book. Holly sighed with resignation and sat down as well. Waiting meant any Slytherins taking the class would be joining them soon. She wasn’t looking forward to that.  
          Albus and Taylor stood near the tiny window that provided light for the landing. Taylor pulled out his book too but never bothered to actually open it. Albus just stared glumly out the window. Holly could tell they were both worried, probably about what would happen once the Slytherins arrived...  
          “Don’t worry,” said Holly reassuringly. “We’re right outside class. Surely they wouldn’t try anything with a professor so near.”  
          “I hope so,” said Albus moodily but Holly could tell he was not convinced.

********************

          After a while, other students came up the narrow staircase. Susan and some of the other Hufflepuffs came next, then Rose and her Gryffindor friends. Holly immediately felt Rose’s relief when her eyes rested upon Albus. Close behind came Leila and the Ravenclaws.  
          Holly studied Leila Pilkington with interest as she entered the landing. Leila wore a bright blue headband that pulled back her thick curly red brown hair. Her hazel colored eyes were warm and friendly. Leila looked a lot like her father. Holly had met Leila’s father during the summer, sort of. Actually, Holly had met someone calling himself Wizard Pilkington in that other world. He had been one of the few nice wizards she had met. Was he the same in this world? Holly longed to ask Leila more about her dad: what he did; what he was like; that sort of thing, but feared Leila would find the questions rather odd and start asking some questions of her own...  
          The Slytherins came up the stairs last. Holly could sense their emotions long before they appeared. They were self confident, arrogant and defiant. Scorpius Malfoy, Anthony Richards, and Martina Goyle led the way. They held their heads up proudly despite the disfiguring red spots.  
          “Well, well,” snarled Tony upon noticing Albus standing by the window. “So this is where you’d got to. Trying to hide out were you?”  
          “I wasn’t hiding out!” retorted Albus coming forward to face the Slytherins.  
          “I’d have thought you’d at least have the courage to owe up to what you’ve done, Potter,” added Scorpius derisively.  
          “I didn’t do it!”  
          “Yeah, right, just like I’m _not_ pushing you!” added Martina aggressively. And her meaty hands reached out on Albus’ shoulders pushing him roughly back. Taylor immediately leaped to Albus’s side, wand extended. The other Gryffindors drew their wands defensively and Slytherins all drew their wands as well.  
          “Oh, give it a rest!” came a weary sounding voice. It was from Michael Goldstein, one of the Ravenclaws. Tall and thin with freckles, red hair and bright green eyes, Michael pushed his way through the students to stand between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. “You say he did it; he says he didn’t; neither of you are going to change each other’s minds! Take your fight downstairs if you must. I really don’t want to be hit by any stray spells.” His words broke the tension in the room.  
          A chorus of “Yeahs,” from the other students in the landing helped emphasize his point.  
          Albus glanced around the landing; his eyes briefly met Holly’s and suddenly Albus lowered his wand. “This fight won’t be started by me,” he announced and deliberately took a step backwards.  
          Tony looked around the tiny landing; saw the faces of the disapproving students. “Later,” he said with disgust and lowered his own wand. The other Slytherns lowered their wands and an uneasy truce settled between the combatants.  
          Holly breathed a sigh of relief in the silence that followed. She felt shaky all over. Even blocking Holly hadn’t been able to escape the intense emotions within the small landing. She relaxed her grip on the wand she held—Lily’s wand, Holly realized with surprise. Holly quietly tucked the wand back into place, pulled out her regular wand, and waited for the trapdoor to open. It had been easy to spend the summer unblocked while around her family, but Holly suddenly realized that practice would not be possible here. In general, wizard emotions were stronger than non-wizard ones. If she wasn’t careful, Holly feared she would be overwhelmed by the unusually powerful emotions generated by the incident in the train.

 ********************

          The trapdoor suddenly swung open and a silvery ladder descended stopping at Tony’s feet. He grinned and climbed the ladder first holding his head high as if he had won some great battle. The other Slytherins followed proudly. The rest of the students all took their turn up the ladder. Holly hung back until the end welcoming the absence of the Slytherin emotions.  
          She’d have happily gone up last except Albus clearly wanted to do that. So Holly grabbed a rung and began climbing after Becky and Mark. Rose, Taylor and finally Albus followed behind.  
          The room was smoky and dim, lit with crimson light. It took a moment or two for Holly’s eyes to adjust. The curtains were closed and the lamps were covered with red scarves. A fire burned in the fireplace and the whole room seemed incredibly hot. Instead of desks, several small round tables filled the room. The other students had already found seats, sitting in the chintz armchair and fat little poufs provided. Becky and Mark stood next to Holly letting her decide where to sit.  
          There were single seats left scattered among the tables. The table near the fireplace already had two boys sitting at it but there was space for three more. The table in back was empty. Holly immediately headed for the back. But then Martina Goyle stepped directly in front of her blocking the way. Martina stared at her insolently with her beady black eyes while she sipped at some drink Holly hadn’t seen her carrying earlier.  
          “You got a thing for Tony?” she asked pointedly. Holly looked around Martina’s chunky body and noted that Tony now sat at the previously empty table! He grinned nastily at Holly.  
          “Uh, no,” replied Holly and she backed up taking the table in front preferring to sit next to Daren Azi, and Brian Brayden, both Ravenclaws, and eminently nicer than Tony.  
          Tony, she noted immediately left the table after Holly had sat down. It was now the only table available for Rose, Taylor and Albus. The three had arrived after Holly and stood uncertainly by the ladder. Once their eyes adjusted to the light, they made their way to the empty table. Martina, still standing, plowed through the group apparently in an effort to get to her seat. In the process, the drink she held spilled and the green liquid splashed over the empty table.  
          “Oops!” said Martina in an innocent sounding voice and she casually took her seat making no effort to clean up the mess she had just created. Holly knew the spill was no accident. Unfortunately, everyone else did too. The Slytherins didn’t bother to hide their snorts and laughs. Albus’s face turned red and he took a step forward obviously headed for the Slytherin table. Taylor swiftly grabbed Albus holding him back.  
          “Oh, for heavens sake!” muttered Rose loudly. “Will you people grow up?” She pulled out her wand and muttered, _“Scourgify!”_   The green stuff immediately vanished and the table was clean again. Then Rose sat down deliberately ignoring the Slytherins. After a moment, Albus and Taylor sat down too.  
          “Welcome,” said a soft sort of misty voice. The owner of the voice moved out of the shadows into the firelight. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last. I am Professor Trelawney.”    
          Professor Trelawney was very thin and had a red gauzy spangled shawl draped over her shoulders. She wore large glasses that made her eyes look huge. Numerous chains and beads dangled from her neck. Her spindly arms were covered with shiny bracelets and her fingers were filled with sparkly rings. “Welcome to Divination,” she added moving gracefully to a winged armchair in front of the fireplace. “You may not have seen me before,” she announced as she sat down. “I find that descending the stairs to mingle with participants and members of the school often clouds my inner eye… Divination is the most difficult of magical arts. I must warn you that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I can teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field.”  
          Becky immediately nudged Mark as if to say, “See, I told you so!”  
          Professor Trelawney’s eyes roamed the room as she continued to speak, “Many witches and wizards, though talented in the practices of— _you!_ ” she said suddenly, fixing her face on Albus in the back of the room. Albus immediately reddened at being singled out. “The _evil eye_ is watching you!” Albus stirred uncomfortably at this pronouncement.  
           The Slytherins all sniggered loudly, pleased at the Professor’s words. Professor Trelawney frowned in annoyance and cast her bespeckled eyes on the Slytherins seeing for the first time their red spotted faces. “The _evil eye_ has touched you!” she pronounced ominously.  
          “She’s got that right!” agreed Scorpius loudly for her words seemed to confirm Albus’ guilt in their minds.  
          “The inner mind can only be revealed when there are no outside vocal distractions,” said Professor Trelawney reprovingly while glaring at Scorpius through her thick glasses. With that the Slytherins subsided into silence but they continued to smirk.  
          Professor Trelawney serenely continued with her introduction. “We will be covering basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading tea leaves—have you lost something of value recently?” she asked Susan abruptly.  
          “I uh,” Susan quickly checked her bag to make sure her bug cages were still there, “I don’t think so,” replied Susan uncertainly.  
           “Well, you will,” replied Professor Trelawney with certainty. “The next term we shall progress to palmistry,” she continued calmly. “Then we will advance to fire o—you shouldn’t wear blue!” she suddenly told Alessa Moore. Alessa, sitting next to Leila, was wearing a trim navy blue vest and skirt. “It’s not a lucky color for you.” Alessa shifted uncomfortably at the Professor’s words and looked apprehensively down at her outfit.  
          “If we have time, we will begin crystal balls the second term as well. No, dear, don’t eat that here.” Mickey O’Toole looked up guiltily, his hand in a bag of wizard chips—once the bag was opened, the flavours changed every 30 seconds. “They’ll make you sick,” continued Professor Trelawney without missing a beat, “and the nearest toilet is down one floor.” Professor Trelawney peered around at all the students in the class staring an especially long time at Albus before speaking again. Albus squirmed and reddened under the attention.  
          “Could you pass me the largest silver teapot?” she suddenly asked Shirley Ogg. Shirley sat with the Slytherins at a nearby table. “And be sure to bring along an extra towel to clean up the mess when you spill the tea…”   The teapot she indicated was on the top of the shelf in the back of the room near where Albus sat.    
          Shirley was tall and thin. She rose, walked to the shelf, reached out and got the teapot easily. She started to turn but hesitated a moment and then picked up one of the towels that sat folded neatly on the shelf below the teapot. Then she started towards the Professor. Shirley had only gone a couple steps when suddenly she stumbled. Hot tea spilled onto Albus and Taylor causing them to rise quickly to get away from it. “You tripped me!” accused Shirley.  
          “Did not!” retorted Albus angrily. Taylor reached out, grabbed the towel from Shirley’s hand and began to hastily wipe things off before they got too wet. Shirley sniffed and with a toss of her head, continued carrying the teapot to the front table.    
          “Now, I want you to all divide into pairs,” instructed Professor Trelawney as she took the pot. Get a teacup from the shelf and come to me. I will fill it. Then sit down and drink your tea leaving the dregs...” and so began Holly’s first day in Divination…  
          It was not a day Holly wanted to repeat. Professor Trelawney flitted about the room like a butterfly casting comments and advice while the students drank their tea. Neither Holly nor Becky could make head or tails of the mess of leaves left in the bottom of their cups.  
          “You need to quit daydreaming, dear,” commented Professor Trelawney in passing while glancing briefly in Holly’s cup. “It’s not healthy.” Holly flushed and the Slytherins snickered appreciatively.  
          “Oh, my!” exclaimed the Professor upon looking in Becky’s teacup. “That’s terrible!”  
          “What? What?” asked Becky anxiously.  
          Professor Trelawney frowned and looked again. “Nothing, dear,” she replied sounding a bit confused. “Nothing at all.” Then she moved on to another table.  
          Suddenly Mickey bolted from his seat scattering the contents of his bag of chips over the floor as he stood. He hastily scrambled down the ladder.  
          “Oh dear,” commented the Professor serenely as she drew her wand. “I hope he makes it in time.” She pointed her wand leisurely at the bag and whispered, _“Magnitio!”_ The chips flew back to the bag sticking to it like it was a pincushion. With two fingers the Professor then picked up the bag and carried it to the trash receptacle. “He won’t be needing these any more,” she said as she dropped it in. She stared thoughtfully at Albus as she walked to the next table.  
          “Your father leads a double life,” the Professor told Leila. “Or not.”  
          Throughout the class the professor shot different comments at the students regarding dates of importance, omens and answers to unspoken questions while they worked. In between, she would repeatedly stare at Albus, or through him. Rattled by the extra attention, Albus dropped his cup with the dregs sending bits of broken porcelain everywhere and so was unable to complete the assignment. He spent the rest of the period cleaning.

 ********************

          “Well?” asked Alessa when they had left the class. “Did she mean it?”  
          “Huh?” asked Holly. Several of the Ravenclaw girls had waited for Holly in the landing after class ended.  
          “Every year Professor Trelawney makes all sorts of outlandish predictions and statements on the first day of class,” explained Leila. “Sometimes they come true, sometimes not. We’ve always wondered whether she makes them up and speaks out like that just to unnerve us all or does she really believe what she says.”  
          “Oh,” said Holly and she frowned thinking. “I couldn’t say for sure,” she finally admitted. “I was blocking the whole time but she seemed sincere.”  
          “Oh,” replied the girls clearly disappointed.  
          “That mean I shouldn’t be wearing blue?” asked Alessa sorrowfully.  
          “I think blue looks good on you,” said Becky staunchly.  
          “And you’ve never had any problems with luck before,” added Leila thoughtfully.  
          “But think how much more lucky you might be without it,” chimed in Kelly Davies.  
          “Or not,” said Holly pessimistically. “The power of suggestion can go a long ways towards making your own luck.”   She remembered her brother had convinced two bullies that she had cursed them from a distance just to get them to clear his name.  
          “True,” agreed Leila. “I guess you’ll have to decide the merits of wearing blue on your own. Come on,” she urged her friends. “The boys are waiting downstairs. Daren thinks he has a formula to determine the probability of whether or not Professor Trelawney’s predictions will come true. I want to check it out. See you in Herbology,” she told Holly cheerfully and with that the Ravenclaws proceeded one by one down the narrow spiral staircase.  
          By this time Rose and Taylor had descended the ladder and Albus was just finishing. So Holly and her friends waited for them before leaving the landing.           

 ********************

          “That was a waste of time,” grumbled Albus as the group proceeded down the long corridor. “Evil eye!” he muttered disgustedly. “Now I’ll get teased about that along with the thestrals!”  
          “Why did you take the class in the first place?” asked Holly with interest.  
          “Because it sounded better than Muggle studies or Ancient Runes!”  
          “Mum has already taught me how to read Ancient Runes so I didn’t need that class,” commented Rose brightly. “I can read _The Tales of Beedle_ _the Bard_ in its original!” she added proudly.   
          “Yeah, big deal!” grumbled Albus. “The story isn’t any different in Runes is it? So why bother? I asked dad about Divination,” Albus continued without waiting for a response from Rose. He had clearly heard Rose boast about her Rune reading abilities before. “He said he guessed Divination was O.K. but you had to be careful to not let the prophecies rule your life.”  
          “You know,” began Mark hesitantly, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the Ravenclaws, but there may be something to what Professor Trelawney says.”  
          “You think I’m marked by some “evil eye” too?” exploded Albus derisively.  
          “Kind of, yeah,” said Mark defensively. “Someone set you up for the train incident. That same someone is responsible for splashing the ink all over the Slytherin faces and I’d say that someone wasn’t very nice, maybe even _evil_.”  
          “Mentioning an “evil eye” means nothing,” said Rose. “She probably knows all about the train incident and figured things the same way you did, Mark.”  
          “It was pretty weird sitting next to you during class today,” added Taylor speculatively. “It felt as if we were being watched the whole time.”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Albus, “by the Professor!”  
          “No,” countered Taylor. “It felt that way even when she wasn’t looking at us!”  
          “Well I didn’t sense anyone else,” said Holly. “Maybe that’s just the power of suggestion at work. I certainly wasn’t daydreaming during class today no matter what she said!” Holly added righteously.  
          “But the Professor didn’t say you were,” reminded Becky. “She just said you should “quit” daydreaming.”  
          “I don’t daydream!” protested Holly.  
          “What would you call those “flashbacks” you’ve been having?” reminded Mark. “They’ve happened in the daytime too, and they’re certainly not “healthy for you!”  
          “She probably knows about that from the notes the Headmistress sent all the professors,” said Holly dismissively.  
          “Except Professor Longbottom didn’t know any details nor did Gwen. So that means the note was pretty vague. How would Professor Trelawney have known you were having flashback problems?” asked Mark.  
          Holly shrugged. There had to be some way. She just didn’t know it yet. Dad never took the premonition shows on the tube seriously; he always insisted there was an explanation for everything out there. Holly believed the same way. There had been an explanation for all Holly’s ailments and there would be one for Professor Trelawney’s words also.

********************

          Professor Longbottom decided to spend the first day of Herbology reviewing: that meant repotting Mandrake plants! It was hot sweaty work but to Holly’s relief, the screaming struggling mandrakes gave no one the opportunity to feel angry or mad.

 ********************

          “Do you see anything?” asked Becky as the students returned to the castle for lunch after Herbology. The group had lingered behind officially to help clean up. Unofficially, Holly feared she might have another reaction similar to what had happened the previous night and if it did happen, she wanted less chance to be observed by the Slytherins doing it.  
          “No,” answered Holly with relief.  
          “Just don’t look up!” Mark had advised. “They can’t hurt so why worry?” But Holly had been unable to approach the castle without looking around.  
          “What are you looking for?” asked Albus curiously. He, Rose, and Taylor had remained behind to help clean up no doubt to mostly to avoid the luncheon crowd.  
          “Dementors,” explained Becky. “Holly saw them here the last time and she’s been seeing stuff she saw the last time…”  
          “Oh. Have you seen—”  
          “No,” replied Holly curtly. “But then it isn’t likely,” she added when she sensed Albus’ immediate hurt and confusion at her response. “I’ve mostly been seeing stuff where I saw it before and I never saw him here.” There was no need to mention names. Albus’s middle name was Severus. Like Holly, Albus had an interest in the Headmaster.”  
          Suddenly a cloud of gray swooped forward. _“Keep walking! Keep moving!” Holly told herself frantically. But it wasn’t working! Perhaps if she ran..._  
          “See something?” inquired Becky breaking into Holly’s thoughts. With her words, the fear that threatened to engulf Holly evaporated. The sun still shone and the anticipated sense of gloom never happened. It was hard to be affected by Dementors when the people next to her weren’t even upset.  
          Holly swallowed. “Five of them,” she answered softly fighting to keep her voice calm. “They couldn’t hurt her now—they weren’t hurting her!” she reminded herself. She lowered her head, stared resolutely at the castle entrance, and continued to walk forward steeling herself for what she knew would come next.  
          “Really?” asked Taylor with interest. “Where?”  
          “There,” Holly replied. She stopped, turned around and pointed into the air where the Dementors had just been. But there was nothing now. The clear sky was bright blue; birds flew where the Dementors had been. “They’re gone now,” Holly added more calmly. Mark had been right; Dementors were nothing to worry about, not at Hogwarts. She turned and headed back into the castle.  
_“You just come along with me, Missy,”_ a cheerful voice whispered in Holly’s ear. Holly reflexively clutched Becky’s hand.  
          “What?” whispered Becky anxiously. “Is he back?”  
          “Just keep me walking,” Holly muttered through gritted teeth while trying to ignore the words in her head. “I’ve got to get through this!”  
          So Becky steered Holly up the steps, through the entryway and over to the main hall. Pettigrew stopped talking when Holly passed the turnoff for the main stairs and Holly breathed a sigh of relief.

 


	16. Chapter 16

          Holly was able to eat more slowly during the noon meal. Most of the Slytherins had already finished eating by the time she arrived so the emotions in the Hall were much less charged. Still, they had to hurry to get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class in time. Holly noted with interest that Pettigrew's patter kept pace with her speed. She wasn't sure whether a fast high-pitched squeaky voice was better than a slow one but it was definitely different.  
          “This year we will look into the many magical creatures and plants that are rather dangerous in nature,” began Professor Lovegood in her serene voice. Today, she wore a mauve robe with a simple cord trim that alternately flashed bright yellow and pink. Her long blonde hair swung loose except for a braided green lock hanging down from the right side and two orange braids twisted into her uncolored hair and held together with a chameleon clip on the left. The chameleon regarded the class with unblinking eyes and flicked its tongue out periodically. The professor’s large silvery eyes were partially hidden behind huge orange rhinestone glasses and she studied the group closely while she spoke.  
          The class size was larger than last year. All the third years were in attendance whereas the class had previously been taught in two sections. The Slytherins sat on one side of the room and predictably the Gryffindors sat on the other forcing the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to sit in between. Despite the separation, the tension in the room was so bad Holly had to block constantly just to concentrate on Professor Lovegood’s words.  
          “We shall discuss their dangers, how to detect, repel and avoid them and ways of safe removal if necessary,” she continued.  
          “You mean blow them up!” muttered Tony Richards to Scorpius Malfoy. His words were greeted by appreciative smirks and sniggers by the other Slytherins.  
          Professor Lovegood fixed her silvery eyes at him. “Brute force may not always be the correct solution, Mr. Richards,” she said reprovingly. “Some creatures, such as the Hydra, tend to multiply when attacked directly. If you pay attention in this class perhaps you may learn what best to do for the desired results.” Richards stirred uncomfortably in his seat, clearly annoyed at the correction.  
          Meanwhile, the chameleon started a leisurely climb up the Professor’s head while clinging to strands of her hair. “If we have time,” she added while ignoring the chameleon, “we shall progress to those creatures and plants that are deliberately dangerous… Of course, we shall continue with our wizard duels. You should be able to improve your skills by dueling against students whose dueling habits with whom you are not already familiar.”  
          “You and me!” challenged Richards looking aggressively across the room at Albus. Albus flushed and looked ready to explode.  
          “In this class, we practice dueling, not _vendettas_ , Mr. Richards,” said Professor Lovegood swiftly before Albus could respond. “Five points for persistent class disruption.” That got all the Slytherins angry but stopped the outright talking.  
          “Today, we shall begin by examining the Cornish pixie,” continued Professor Lovegood, her voice again serene and calm. “Please turn to the second chapter of your book. You have ten minutes to read or review the basic information on Cornish pixies. We will discuss what they are and how to deal with them after you have completed. Everyone obligingly dug out their text except Rose. Rose had her hand up.  
          “Yes, Miss Weasley?” queried Professor Lovegood.  
          “I’ve already read this chapter over the summer. Do I have to read it again?” asked Rose.  
          “Of course,” replied Professor Lovegood. “It never hurts to review.”  
          “But I’ve got it memorized!” argued Rose proudly.  
          “No doubt you do,” agreed Professor Lovegood calmly, “so perhaps you could spend your time summarizing the basic points of a Cornish pixie on paper…” Several of the Ravenclaws started digging through their bags and pulling out quill and scroll.  
           “I’ve got that done too,” said Rose smugly. She pulled out a scroll from her bag and held it up for all to see. It was clear Rose had received similar assignments from Professor Lovegood and had come prepared.  
           “Then perhaps you should summarize it again in Ancient Runes,” added Professor Lovegood smoothly while collecting the scroll. Rose frowned and pulled out a new scroll and quill. The Slytherins smiled and the rest of the class stirred appreciatively. It never seemed fair that one student could relax while the rest of them worked. After that, the students settled down to some basic reading. Holly had already read the specified chapter last year while the other students dueled, but that seemed like ages ago. Like the Professor said, it never hurt to review. Cornish pixies were described as being only about 15 centimeters tall; they were supposed to be blue with pointed faces and shrill voices...  
           At the end of ten minutes a discussion followed reviewing what they had read. Adding Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to the class totally changed the dynamics of the group. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws openly competed for recognition in providing correct answers almost totally ignoring the Slytherins with their snide comments and superiority complex. The Slytherins, not wanting to be left out, were forced to stay on topic and contribute their own best answers to the discussion. For the most part, the Hufflepuffs remained quiet, content to let the other groups vie for recognition.  
           When the discussion died, Professor Lovegood reviewed with the students the best spells to stop or disable Cornish pixies and then announced the class would proceed to the practice room where a gaggle of pixies were already waiting to be released. The class was to practice the new spells using them to capture and re-cage the pixies. Everyone got up excitedly.  
          “Miss Wycliff,” said Professor Lovegood as Holly stood with her friends and drew out her wand in preparation. “I think it best if you remained in here while the rest of the students practice…”  
          “What?” asked Holly in surprise. They weren’t dueling each other; there should have been no problem with Holly participating.  
          “You need to remain here while the students practice,” repeated Professor Lovegood. She turned her attention to the mirror that was the entrance to the Practice Room. Tapping it three times, the mirror swung open revealing the practice room behind. The other students filed inside.  
          The Slytherins grinned immediately at Holly’s discomfort. “Guess it isn’t fair for you to duel against pixies either!” chortled Martina Goyle snidely as she passed on her way to enter the room. Holly had been excused from dueling practice the previous years as her emphatic abilities gave her an unfair advantage over her opponent.  
          Becky and Mark stood uncertainly next to Holly after the rest of the students had entered the practice room.  “I am aware of Miss Wycliff’s medical restrictions,” Professor Lovegood told them softly, “but you both cannot be totally excused from class exercises. Perhaps if you stayed with Miss Wycliff in shifts?” she suggested. “The mirror door is warded against pixies so it should be safe for you to trade off. But to be on the safe side,” Professor Lovegood pointed her wand at the classroom door. It swung shut and a loud clank sounded as it locked securely. “Any pixies that manage to escape the practice room won’t be able to go far,” she told them. With that, Professor Lovegood stepped into the practice room.  
          Becky and Mark looked uncertainly at each other. “Uh,” I guess I’ll go first,” Mark told Becky and followed Professor Lovegood into the Practice room.  
          Holly sighed and sat down. She reopened her Defense against the Dark Arts book and began to read. There was no use complaining to Becky who was stuck outside with her.  
          “I don’t mind, really,” Becky told Holly as she sat down and reopened her own book. But Holly could sense Becky’s disappointment at having to sit outside with her. Holly shared that disappointment especially after she could hear the sound of spells being cast and laughter coming from the practice room.  
          After a while Mark came out. He was breathless, flushed and excited. “It’s total bedlam in there!” he announced. “There’s over forty pixies,” he told Becky eagerly. “All riled up! We’ve each got to catch at least one—house points if you can get more!!” he added as Becky stood, eager for her try. “ _Peskipiksi Pesternomi_ doesn’t work at all!” he advised. “Go with a stunning or freezing spell,” he suggested. “Good luck!” And Becky quickly vanished into the practice room.  
           “I got two!” Mark told Holly proudly. “They’re really, really fast!” he added. “The book doesn’t say anything about speed! Two of them grabbed Martina’s braids, lifted her up and hung her onto the ceiling chandelier by her robe! You should have heard Martina scream when her robes tore and she came crashing down! She’s O.K. though,” Mark added. “She landed on three other students! I’m not too sure how they are…”  
          Holly shuttered reflexively. Actually she had heard Martina’s scream, had unblocked in time to feel her terror at falling, her relief when she landed and the pain of the other three students. Holly didn’t like Martina, but didn’t like it when anyone felt that scared. Holly had blocked continuously after that.  
          “Then some other pixies got into the suits of armor,” continued Mark enthusiastically, “and charged around the room crashing into students! It was total chaos!” Holly had no doubt of that. She could hear all the screams and crashes from her seat.  
           Holly listened enviously to Mark’s stories but tried to not let it show. She didn’t mind sitting out when the class was dueling against each other. Holly didn’t want to hurt anyone, even in practice. But though it did sound a bit rough in there, it seemed so unfair she should miss out on other wand practice.  
           Presently the students all trooped out of the practice room. Their hair and clothes were mussed and in disarray but no one seemed to care. They were laughing and talking about their recent experiences.  
          “Did you see that one I caught?” Albus proudly asked no one in particular. “I cast the spell in front of him and he ran right into it!”  
          “Only because it was dodging the spell I cast on the other side!” retorted Rose. Holly sighed. Albus and Rose could never seem to stop bickering.  
          “I want a paper comparing the information presented in the book and the reality of catching Cornish pixies,” said Professor Lovegood. “Due next Monday,” she added with a smile. Using her wand, she unlocked the classroom door and dismissed the students for the day.  
          Gradually the classroom emptied until only Holly, Becky and Mark remained.  
          “I could have done it!” exclaimed Holly to Professor Lovegood. “It wasn’t dueling against other students and I should have been there too!” Holly added venting all the frustration she had felt during the period.  
          Professor Lovegood straightened her oversized glasses, and regarded the three silently with her silvery eyes. Then she reached out, pulled her blonde hair back out of her face, plucked the chameleon off her shoulder and replaced it onto her head. It obligingly gripped her hair keeping it in place.  
          “Your friends may wait for you outside,” she said dismissing Mark and Becky. “Close the door on your way,” she added. Giving a last supportive glance at Holly, Becky and Mark grabbed their things and reluctantly walked outside shutting the door behind them.  
          “Please have a seat,” instructed Professor Lovegood when they were alone. She took a seat at the table across from Holly. Using her wand Professor Lovegood caused the nearest chair to slide out towards Holly invitingly.  
          “You didn’t have to single me out that way,” insisted Holly while refusing to sit. “I could have done it!”  
          “No doubt you could have,” agreed Professor Lovegood calmly, "but I had some questions I needed to ask first before I could let you practice with the rest of the class. Medical questions.”  
          Holly scowled. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she protested. “Nothing really.”  
          “Did you cast the first spell on the train?”  
          “What?” asked Holly surprised. That was not a question she expected. “I, uh, why do you ask?”  
          “The Slytherins say they didn’t do it,” replied the Professor calmly. “But then they always say that. The Gryffindors also deny casting it. Curiously, they do not accuse the Slytherins of doing it, something that they would not hesitate to do if they considered the Slytherins at fault. That leaves only you, Miss Wycliff. Did you cast the first spell?”  
           “I, uh,” Holly sank down into the chair thinking. Had she cast a spell before she thought she was running for the trophy room? Wasn’t that just part of the flashback? What if it wasn’t? “I really don’t know,” she confessed softly. “I might have…”  
           Professor Lovegood removed her glasses and regarded Holly thoughtfully with her silvery eyes. “You should know,” she said sternly. “You should always know when you cast a spell. Students are held accountable for all spells they cast.”  
          Holly nodded silently not knowing what to say.    
          “At whom were you casting your spell?” she inquired gently taking Holly’s confused response as an admission of guilt.  
          Holly squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to talk about what happened in the train to anyone, ever! But Professor Lovegood waited silently for her to respond. “Pettigrew,” Holly finally whispered opening her eyes to see what Professor Lovegood would do next.  
          Professor Lovegood raised an eyebrow at Holly’s response. “Pettigrew was not on the train,” she said finally.  
          “No,” agreed Holly shamefully.  
          “Perhaps you can see my difficulty,” Professor Lovegood began calmly. “I cannot have you in a room with other students casting spells at long dead people. Someone could get hurt. Lily was in that car!” she reminded Holly. “She hadn’t even been sorted yet!”  
          Holly gulped guiltily suddenly remembering that small figure in the corner who had been sobbing quietly throughout the confrontation. She hung her head and could feel the tears falling down her face. No one had told Holly what had happened in the car while she was having her flashback. When Holly had recovered, she had felt so consumed with shame and embarrassment she hadn’t thought to inquire. It never occurred to her that her flashbacks might harm others. “W—was she hurt?”  
          “Fortunately, no,” replied Professor Lovegood, “but until I can confirm you are in control of your actions while using your wand, I cannot allow you to practice with the other students. Healer Winonan’s instructions were intended to keep you safe from yourself. I must insure other students are kept safe from you!”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” Holly mumbled miserably and rose to leave. She didn’t argue with Professor Lovegood. She didn’t want to risk anyone else getting hurt because of her. “I’ll, uh, be going now,” she told the Professor while gathering her things.  
          “Did it work?” asked Professor Lovegood suddenly.  
          “What?”  
          “Did it work?” repeated Professor Lovegood curiously. “I know about the plaque your brother found,” she added explaining further. “You were obviously reliving something that happened during the summer. You must have met Pettigrew and used your wand against him. Was the spell successful?”  
          “Uh, yes, I disarmed him.”  
          “Then I would say your practice at wizard dueling last year has done you some good. Peter Pettigrew was a rather slippery character with a strong sense of survival.” Holly could feel a twinge of satisfaction as the Professor spoke.  
          “I was lucky,” Holly replied. “He wasn’t expecting it.”  
          “Timing is everything,” murmured Professor Lovegood approvingly. “No doubt you had good reasons to cast the spell...”  
          “He was going to attack the Headmaster from behind!” confirmed Holly righteously as if that answered everything.  
          “That would not surprise me,” said the Professor calmly. “Pettigrew was not one with honor. Do you want to know what happened last night?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “When you cast your spell? You clearly don’t know.”  
          “I suppose so,” said Holly fearfully. What kind of damage had she done on the train?  
          “You disarmed Prefect Richards,” informed Professor Lovegood. Holly could sense the Professor’s pride behind the statement. He was a seventh year, after all. “His efforts to retrieve his wand knocked the other Slytherins off balance causing their spells to go awry,” she added. “No doubt Richards’ embarrassment at being disarmed by a third year and theirs at missing their targets is the reason why the Slytherins claim, “nothing happened” while on the train… Of course,” Professor Lovegood added while putting her oversized glasses back on and pushing some more strands of hair behind the chameleon, “as far as they’re concerned, you cast that spell at Prefect Richards, not Pettigrew, and Mr. Richards will not forget… Do be careful when traveling the Halls at Hogwarts, Miss Wycliff.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly and she turned to leave.  
          “I expect you here tomorrow after dinner to make up today’s practice session, Miss Wycliff,” Professor Lovegood added suddenly as Holly reached the door.   
          “Yes, ma’am,” said Holly. She opened the door and left the room.

********************

          “Did I really cast the first spell on the train?” asked Holly when she joined up with Mark and Becky. The three were hurrying to their next class as they talked.  
          “Well, yeah, I think so,” replied Mark. “At least yours was the first spell I heard.”  
          “It was really loud too,” volunteered Becky. “I never knew you could speak like that!”  
          “Great!” grumbled Holly. “I apparently started that whole fight on the train without meaning to and I’ll never be able to convince the Slytherins that I wasn’t aiming at them when I cast that spell!”  
          “You weren’t?” asked Becky surprised. “Who were you aiming at?”  
          “Pettigrew!” And Holly proceeded to relate what she had learned from Professor Lovegood. “I thought that was all part of the memory!” Holly confessed when she finished. “I had no idea I actually _used_ my wand!”  
          “This is not good!” whistled Mark. “There is no telling what else you might do with a wand while you’re “remembering.”  
          “But she only used it the one time!” reminded Becky. “Maybe _Expelliarmus_ is the only spell she’ll ever cast that way. And it doesn’t hurt anyone!”  
          “True,” admitted Holly, “but as the Professor says, “timing is everything!” If you think about it, my spell sort of started the fight between the Headmaster and Voldemort. And then I caused the fight on the train! I could easily cause another without meaning to! I’ve got to apologize to my cousins!” Holly continued in a rush feeling extremely upset and guilt ridden. “They never said a word about it all being my fault—not even to the Professors!”  
          “They wouldn’t,” assured Mark. “They’re family.”  
          “I’m sure they don’t blame you,” added Becky loyally.  
          The three walked for several steps in silence and then Holly said, “Oh, yes! Professor Lovegood wants me to show up tomorrow after dinner to make up for the class practice. I hate to bother you but would you two mind coming along?”  
          “Practice with pixies?’ asked Becky perking up immediately. “Sure! Maybe she’ll let us help!”  
          “We might even be able to pick up a few more house points in the process,” added Mark enthusiastically. The group fell silent as they mounted the stairs and Holly focused on ignoring the cheerful squeaky sounds of Pettigrew in her ear.  
           “You know,” mused Mark when they got off the landing and started down the corridor. “From what you said, it sounded as if Professor Lovegood knew Peter Pettigrew. Perhaps she can tell you more about him—maybe something that would help get him out of your head!”  
          “That’s an idea,” muttered Holly grumpily. He wasn’t speaking any more, but Pettigrew’s annoying squeak still rang in her ears, “but let’s discuss it later when I’m in a better mood,” she added. At the moment, just the thought of Pettigrew set her on edge!

 *********************

           Professor Iverson silently looked down upon the three last minute arrivals with a raised eyebrow. She was incredibly tall and thin and tended to wear robes of mottled brown, black and orange. The Slytherins sniggered at Holly correctly guessing a conference with Professor Lovegood had caused their lateness. But they held their tongue. Professor Iverson was the Hufflepuff House Professor. She did not take kindly towards cutting remarks, especially those directed at the Hufflepuffs. The Professor waited patiently for Holly, Mark and Becky to get settled before beginning Transfiguration class.  
          Today she had a guest; Headmistress McGonagall. The Headmistress demonstrated how an Animagus makes transformations by transforming herself into a cat and back. Holly watched with interest; it was the first time she had ever witnessed an animal transformation. She applauded heartily with the rest of the class upon her completion; it obviously took much skill to make such a transformation.  
          Then the group used their own wands in an attempt to transfigure smaller items. Holly wasn’t very successful, but she had no problems staying focused and on task. She wondered if everyone was worrying too much; maybe the incident on the train was just a fluke…  
          At dinner, the Slytherins marched in proudly with spot-free faces. Holly breathed a sigh of relief at the reduced tensions in the Hall. Perhaps now things would be getting back to normal, or what served as normal at Hogwarts. One of the first years, Holly didn’t know their names yet, was practicing with her wand and accidently caused a loud explosion, which made everyone jump momentarily. Then it was back to eating as usual.  
          After dinner, Becky and Mark followed Holly up the stairs to the infirmary. They kept up a steady chatter while Holly tried to ignore the voice in her head. At the landing, Holly breathed a sigh of relief, welcoming the silence, happy to again be rid of Pettigrew. Mark and Becky sat down at the infirmary doors and each pulled out a book while Holly went on into the infirmary.

*********************

          Madam Pomfrey welcomed Holly warmly. “Have a seat,” she told Holly. Holly complied by sitting on one of the empty beds. Madam Pomfrey drew up a chair besides Holly. “You look much better than yesterday,” she said looking Holly over. “Did you have a good night?” she inquired while pulling out her instruments for a basic physical.  
          “Yes,” admitted Holly. “I slept well,” she added. Sleeping had been Holly’s problem the first time she visited that other world.  
          “How are you?” Madam Pomfrey asked while peering into Holly’s eyes.  
          “Fine,” replied Holly.  
          “That’s good to hear,” replied Madam Pomfrey. She picked up a wizard stethoscope and proceeded to listen to Holly’s heart. “I understand you’ve been having some problems with, uh, flashbacks,” she said. “Is that true?”  
          “Yes,” replied Holly tensing up. Madam Pomfrey was broaching on things Holly would rather not discuss.  
          “Are they still happening?” Madam Pomfrey asked conversationally.  
          “Yes,” admitted Holly reluctantly. She shifted on her seat uncomfortably not wanting to answer the inevitable questions that would come next.  
          “And, I take it, you would rather not discuss them.”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly more enthusiastically. Her whole body relaxed at the thought she maybe would not have to provide any explanations…  
          “Well, Healer Winonan said to not pry too deeply for now, that is, if you are doing your journal as requested. Are you?”  
          “Yes, Ma’am,” Holly replied glad Becky had filled it out that morning, “but I haven’t filled it out for today. The journal is in the dorm,” she explained further. “And I haven’t been there since morning.”  
          “Hmmm, and you are not going anywhere alone?”  
          “No, ma’am,” replied Holly. “Becky and Mark have been with me all day.”  
          “Good. Don’t try to slip away on your own,” she instructed. “Or we’ll have to rethink the restrictions. Do you understand?”  
          “Yes, ma’am.”  
          Madam Pomfrey pulled out a small leather bound book and a quill. “I have some general questions to ask. How many “flashbacks” have you had since you left Mr. Potter at the station?”  
          Holly closed her eyes thinking. “Um, four or five I think,” she answered. “I haven’t really counted.”  
          Madam Pomfrey frowned while writing that down. “And where did they occur?”  
          “Once on the train and the rest have been at the entrance of Hogwarts and going up the stairs.”  
          Madam Pomfrey looked up. “No where else?”  
          “No,” asserted Holly. “Is there some way I can get around Hogwarts without using the stairs? That would stop most of the flashbacks. I hear things every time I go up the steps”  
          “Unfortunately, no,” replied Madam Pomfrey thoughtfully while writing. “I hadn’t heard about the one on the stairs, so I take it you are able to manage it without an “unplanned” response?”  
_“Haven’t heard?”_ whispered Holly in surprise. “Oh, Professor Longbottom…”  
          “Yes,” confirmed Madam Pomfrey. “I know about last night. The professors have been instructed to report any unusual behavior of yours so we can get a clearer picture of what is going on. What you experience and what others observe may be two completely different things.”  
          Holly felt her face redden; she looked down at her feet and began tugging at her shirt.  
          “It’s for your own good,” Madam Pomfrey continued in a softer voice. “We care about you, Holly. You can get into all sorts of trouble at Hogwarts especially if you can’t control your actions. That’s why you mustn’t travel about alone. And until you get this flashback thing resolved, we all have to watch out for you.”  
           Holly nodded reluctantly. “Yes, ma’am. Can I go now?” she asked anxious to escape the topic of discussion.  
           “For today,” said Madam Pomfrey leaning back in her chair. “But I expect you back next Monday after dinner _with_ your journal. By then you should have a clearer picture of how you will be affected by flashbacks while at Hogwarts.”  
           “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly happily. She jumped off the bed and quickly made her exit.

********************

          “This is just awful,” exclaimed Holly after she left the infirmary and started down the steps. “I feel like a fish in a fishbowl with everyone watching!  
          “At least they don’t know _why_ they’re watching,” said Mark consolingly.  
          “Or what they’re watching for...” added Becky. “And it’s only the professors!” she reminded Holly. “The Slytherins don’t know—that’s something!”  
          “Big deal,” muttered Holly darkly. “They don’t have to “know” to harass me! Never mind that I messed things up on the train, I’m still a “Potter” to them and that’s reason enough!”  
          They turned off the stairs and continued down the corridors. The three discussed homework assignments and speculated what kind of creature they would learn about in Professor Hagrid’s _Care of Magical Creatures_ class the next day. Mark reminded Holly to stroke the spine of her book if she wanted it to open without biting.  
          Finally they reached the portrait of the Angry Judge. “Let me,” insisted Mark stepping forward. He cleared his throat and began:

  _There once was a judge at a trial._  
_Whose temper was exceedingly vile!_  
_So we told him a joke,_  
_Which surprised the old bloke,_  
_And he let us all in with a smile!_

          “Another one?” asked Becky amidst the guffaws and laughter of the painting.  
          “Yep” said Mark proudly as the painting swung open revealing the entrance to the Hufflepuff Dorm. “I’ve lots of them! It was a boring summer…”  
          “Lucky you!” muttered Holly as they entered the dorm.

********************

          Holly sighed and pulled the journal off the nightstand. She was seated on her bed with Sasha curled up on her lap getting ready to sleep. Becky had started the journal and now Holly reluctantly made some additions. “Only up the stairs and in the entryway,” mused Holly as she wrote. “I can deal with that, right?” she set the completed journal back on the nightstand on top of the music books she had gotten for her birthday and the one Vernon had brought back from Chessington. _“It would be nice to finish the evening by playing the organ,”_ she thought while remembering its loud reedy tones fondly. But Becky was already asleep and it seemed like such an imposition to ask someone to come with her…  
          Holly had taken up organ in an attempt to learn selective blocking. Playing the organ had become a necessity at the end of last year; it helped prevent images of the plane wreck from keeping her awake at night but since her return from that other world, the faces of the mangled dead didn’t seem to bother her as much. Holly lay down in her bed and pulled up the covers. Sasha shifted her body and curled up near Holly’s stomach while purring loudly. Holly reached mentally for that contentment and made it her own. She closed her eyes and ran through some of the organ tunes she knew in her head while absently stroking Sasha’s silky fur. “Maybe I can play the organ tomorrow…”

*********************

          “I thought you said you could eat meat now,” commented Mark the next morning as he watched Holly hungrily consume a plate of curried eggs and rice.  
          “I can,” replied Holly in between bites. “I just don’t think anyone has told the house elves that. Holly took a sip of tea and added, “Now that I think about it, eating vegetarian is easier than trying to conjure up Wizard Flint’s face for every bite.” She gave a shutter at the thought of Wizard Flint.  
          “But the Slytherins will keep teasing you about your food,” said Becky worriedly.  
          “Let them,” retorted Holly as she heaped up a second helping of the spicy food. “It’s none of their business what I eat or why. Besides, I kind of like curry now.”  
          The school day started off well. Professor Slughorn greeted Holly’s arrival with a dreamy smile inquiring mildly how her summer had been. “Fine,” replied Holly automatically knowing he was probably thinking she was Lily, Cousin Harry’s mum, as usual. After the rest of the students settled in, Professor Slughorn smiled benevolently at Rose and Albus as he proceeded to assign a potion from the new Half Blood Prince Potions book—one of the _revised_ potions. Nearly everyone got the potion correct on the first try which made the students in the class, even the Slytherins, feel pretty good!  
          “I’m so sorry!” whispered Holly to Albus and Rose while they were cleaning up.  
          “Huh?” asked Albus surprised. “For what?”  
          “For starting that fight on the train!” explained Holly. “I never meant to—didn’t even know I did it! I was … remembering…”  
          “Yeah, we figured that out later,” agreed Albus. “We didn’t think you’d fire a spell out like that intentionally. Who’d you think you were hitting?” he asked curiously.  
          “Pettigrew!” said Holly with a shiver. He hadn’t yet spoken to her that day but Holly was sure he would return once she started up the steps.  
          “Never heard of him,” Albus replied with a shrug. “Have you?” he asked Rose.  
          “He’s the one Sirius Black was supposed to have killed,” said Rose thoughtfully while she wiped her cauldron dry. “Didn’t he also cut off his hand or something?”  
          “I guess,” agreed Holly while wiping out her own cauldron. “At least one of his hands was all silver. He tried to cast a sneak shot at the Headmaster and I had to stop it!” Holly further explained. “I swear I didn’t know I was casting the spell again for real!”  
          “It’s O.K.,” replied Albus. “No one was hurt.” Then he asked, “That why Professor Lovegood wouldn’t let you practice with the class yesterday?”  
          “Yeah,” replied Holly glumly. “She's afraid I might … “loose it” again and fire spells at the other students. I don’t think I will, but I don’t know for sure.”  
          “That’s rough,” exclaimed Albus sympathetically.  
          “All done?” asked Taylor. He had come up behind the group having finished cleaning his own materials. Rose nodded and Albus hastily slid his cauldron on the shelf.  
          “Yep,” replied Albus. “We’ve got to drop some things off at the dorm now,” he told Holly. “Well, see you later.” He, Rose and Taylor took off and Holly rejoined her friends.

********************

          “It’s Care of Magical Creatures next,” announced Mark. “Got the first aid kit?” he asked Becky.  
          “All packed and ready,” announced Becky proudly while patting her rather bulky bag…  
          “Whatever for?” asked Holly as they left the potions room.  
          “Well,” began Mark while they walked down the corridor, “as near as I can tell, Professor Hagrid never teaches about the same magical creatures two years in a row and the creatures he likes to show the class are rarely cute and cuddly. Almost every entry mentions injuries and recommends bringing along some medical supplies...”  
          “Oh,” said Holly. What Mark said made sense considering the saber-toothed cat and spitting lizard he had already raised as pets. The three spent the rest of the walk to class debating what creature he would show them first…

********************

          Professor Hagrid greeted the students enthusiastically. He wore a huge smock over his regular clothing. It was covered with some sort of light green/white stuff that crackled and flaked off as he moved. After the usual preliminaries, Professor Hagrid led the class around to the back of his hut where the students saw several large buckets. “Line up,” he told them. “There’s one fer each of ya!” So the students lined up and the Professor proceeded to hand each student one of the buckets. Looking inside her bucket, Holly a shimmering green squirming mass of—.  
          “That looks like flobberworms!” said Scorpius not bothering to hide his disgust.  
          “Yep! That’s a good eye ya have there, Mr. Malfoy,” replied Professor Hagrid happily. “Five points fer Slytherin!” Scorpius’ expression took on a confused look uncertain whether to be pleased at the points he had just earned or disgusted by what he was holding…  
          “Do they even _count_ as creatures?” questioned Rose looking dubiously at the contents of her bucket.  
          “Course they do!” replied Professor Hagrid cheerfully. “Not all magical creatures are large. Now we’re gonna need lots ‘o flobberworms this year so each one of ya is to take yer bucket back to the dorm, care fer it and return it when it is full ‘o worms!” Picking up the remaining bucket, Professor Hagrid walked over to a table containing a huge rust colored earthenware bowl, a tall grey-green pitcher, a grubby looking tin salt shaker, and a large blue and red earthenware platter. All the dishes looked ancient and well worn with several chips on their edges. On the ground next to the table was a large pile of peach colored smocks—no doubt one for each of them. “First, ya got ta clean off th’ mucus!”  
          “EWWWW!” came the automatic exclamation from several students.  
          Professor Hagrid ignored the response. He reached into the bucket with his bare hand and pulled out a single slimy looking worm. It looked large enough to be a small snake. The worm was about thirty centimeters long and covered in bright green gooey stuff that dripped down from its body. The worm squirmed and squiggled in his grasp. “Now ya hold it jes’ beneath the head with one hand,” he began in an instructional voice, “ careful ya don’t squeeze too hard,” he admonished, “take h’ thumb and firs’ finger of yer other hand an’ gently run them down both sides o’ the worm. Like this!” Using his other hand, he demonstrated on the worm he held. A shiny green gob of slime came off the worm and stuck to his fingers. Without the slime, the flobberworm looked dull and flat. Professor Hagrid then scraped the stuff onto the edge of the bowl. “Ya want ta save th’ slime fer Professor Slughorn,” he told the class as he placed the worm on the plate. “Jes’ ask an’ he’ll be happy ta give ya sum empty potions jars fer the purpose,” continued the Professor while dipping his hand into the bucket again. The Professor pulled out another Flobberworm and proceeded to clean it. “Flobberworms like to be scraped at least once a week,” he told the class as he worked, “more if ya got the time. They’ll multiply faster if ya do,” he added as an aside while placing the second cleaned worm on the plate.  
          In rapid succession, Professor cleaned eight more worms placing each on the plate. Then he lifted up the bucket, and dumped the excess slime into a separate bowl. “Give th’ bucket remains to Professor Longbottom,” he told the class while wiping off his fingers on his smock making new shiny green streaks upon it. “It makes great fertilizer.” Professor Hagrid returned the worms to the bucket. “Don’t clean out the bucket,” he warned, “they like to burrow inta somethin’ familiar. Next, dust the worms with seaweed,” instructed Professor Hagrid. “That’s their food,” he informed them. “Not too much, mind you or the flobberworms will get bloated and sick. Now, gather around,” he instructed as picked up the “salt” shaker. Holly and the other students obligingly stepped forward and watched while the Professor tapped the shaker over the worms covering them with a thin layer of black—dried seaweed.” He set the shaker down and looked around the students as he said, “the worms need ta be kept moist so we cover ‘em with water. Spring water’s best,” Professor Hagrid added, “but lake water’ll do.” He picked up the heavy pitcher on the table and poured some water over the worms just barely covering them. “That’s it!” concluded Professor Hagrid proudly. “They like it dark so keep ‘em covered. Then all ya have ta do is store ‘em someplace not-too warm an’ not too cold an wait fer nature ta take over! Any questions?”  
          “Why are we doing this?” asked Tony bluntly.  
          “We’ve got a very special project to do this year that needs lots o’ flobberworms, Mr. Richards,” said Professor Hagrid cryptically. “But I’ll tell ya more about that later. Any other questions?”  
          “How long will it take for the bucket to fill?” asked Mark practically.  
          “No idea,” replied the Professor, "but ten extra house points for th’ firs’ House that brings all their buckets back filled to th’ top! An’ ta get ya started on th’ righ’ track, I want ya all to clean an’ dust yer flobberworms durin’ class today! So who’s first?” he invited backing away from the table making space for the students.  
          The students warily looked around at each other unwilling to be the first to touch the flobberworms. To everyone’s surprise, Becky suddenly stepped forward, grabbed a smock and placed her bucket on the table.  
          “Well done, Miss Smith,” said Professor Hagrid approvingly. “Five points fer Hufflepuff!”  
          Becky blushed as she put on her smock. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out some of plastic gloves and proceeded to put them on.  
          “Say! Where’d you get those?” asked Albus enviously.  
          “From my first aid kit!” replied Becky proudly.  
          “I’ve never seen a first aid kit with gloves before,” commented Leila Pilkington with interest.  
          “Muggle first aid kits always have gloves in them so I figured ours should have them too.” Becky reached into her bag and retrieved two more gloves. “Come on,” she told Holly and Mark while handing them each a pair of gloves. “Let’s get this over with.” Squinching her eyes shut, Becky reached into the bucket and pulled out her first worm…

 ********************

          Cleaning the flobberworms went rather smoothly until one of Mickey O’Toole’s worms slipped from his fingers, flew into the air and landed on Sylvia’s head. She was a Gryffindor with long blonde hair. Sylvia yelped and jumped in surprise knocking over several nearby students and tipping their buckets as well. The flobberworms spilled out of the buckets and squirmed onto the feet and ankles of several other students creating slime tracks everywhere. Retrieving and sorting the worms back into their original buckets was a time consuming messy process. After that nobody cared too much about doing a good job; they just wanted to get finished!  
          Much later a relieved group of students washed off.  
          “I can’t believe we’re going to have to take care of those things!” Shirley Ogg complained loudly.  
          “There has got to be a better way to do this without getting so messy!” sighed Alessa Moore while scrubbing her hands.  
          “Maybe water-proof and slime-proof are the same thing,” mused Leila as she wiped off her hands. “In which case, the _Impervious_ spell might work…”  
          “That or some good cleaning spells for afterwards” agreed Rose.  
          “I’m carrying an umbrella the next time,” said Sylvia MacKenzie grimly. The initial worm got tangled in Sylvia’s hair and though she didn’t say anything, Holly knew Sylvia was rather upset when the Professor determined the worm had to be "cut" out of the hair rather than risk it’s injury. Sylvia was reduced to near tears especially after the Slytherins started teasing her about her new “haircut” so Holly used her wand and said a quick hair-growing spell to return the cut stands to their proper length thus stopping both jeers and tears.  
          “That’s a Hex!” observed Leila with surprise. “We’ve never been assigned that one! Where’d you get it?”  
          “It’s from Professor Lovegood’s _Hexing with Love_ book,” replied Holly without elaborating.  
          “Hmm, I shall have to see if I can borrow it,” replied Leila with determination.  
          “Rose,” questioned Albus, “what spell do I use to clean this up?” He pointed to his pants, which had slime everywhere from trying to catch the escaped flobberworms.  
          “Try _Terego_ ,” Rose suggested.  
          “Thanks.” Albus pointed his wand as this pants, said the spell, and brushed off any remaining flecks of slime not caught by the spell before putting his wand away. Then he lifted the flap to his bag to put away the packet of seaweed he had been given for flobberworm food.  
          “Hey!” exclaimed Albus. “Who did this?” The contents of Albus’s bag positively oozed with slippery green slime. Albus tipped the contents of his bag out onto the ground. All his books and papers were covered with slime and at the center squirmed one uncleaned flobberworm!  
          The Slytherins immediately burst into loud guffaws! “Not me,” said Tony appreciatively. “But I wish I’d thought of it.  
          “Serves you right!” Martina added righteously.  
          “I didn’t do anything!” said Albus automatically drawing his wand in anger. The Slytherins started drawing their wands too.  
          “There now, there now,” interrupted Professor Hagrid placatingly. “Probably one of them worms thought yer bag was a nice quiet place ta live… T’ain’t nobody’s fault…” He reached down, plucked the worm up, and carried it to the bowl of slime. With a quick flick of the wrist he cleaned the worm and then dropped it into Albus’ bucket. “There,” he said with satisfaction. “Someone done ya a favor!” he told Albus with satisfaction. “Now yer worms ought to multiply even faster!”  
          But Albus was not to be mollified. He swung his attention to Holly. “Well, did they do it?” he demanded. Holly flushed, uncomfortable at the attention.  
          “Don’t ya be using yer cousin fer a lie detector, now,” admonished Professor Hagrid before Holly could respond. “She’s got enough problems of her own!”  
          And Holly flushed even more sensing the immediate interest of the rest of the students. Embarrassed, Holly knelt down and nervously stuffed her pouch of seaweed into her bag. “I’ve got to be going,” she mumbled and picked up her bag anxious to be off. Becky and Mark hastily stuffed their things into their bags picking them up as well.  
          Albus stared at Holly thoughtfully and then lowered his wand. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” he said out loud. Almost disappointed, the Slytherins lowered their wands.  
          “Miss Wycliff,” said Professor Hagrid, “Why don’t ya open th’ door to th’ hut and let Fang out on yer way back to th’ castle.”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly, happy at the excuse to leave.  
          “Cover yer bucket though,” he added. “Fang loves ta eat flobberworms!” Holly nodded and hastily walked up to the hut followed by Mark and Becky.  
          In the background Holly heard Albus ask, “Think _Terego_ will work on this mess?”  
          “Let’s try,” came Rose’s response.  
          Holly handed her bucket of flobberworms to Becky. Becky stood well back while Holly lifted the heavy latch to Hagrid’s hut. Fang, Professor Hagrid’s huge boarhound, leaped on top of Holly in such an enthusiastic greeting he knocked Holly to the ground! “Hello there!” Holly said warmly with all thoughts of embarrassment forgotten. “Did you miss me?” She affectionately ruffled Fang's fur while he planted his wet tongue on Holly’s face.  
          “He probably just missed being out of all the action,” said Mark keeping well back to avoid getting “greeted” by Fang. And indeed, once he finished licking Holly, Fang bounded out into the yard with a joyful “Woof!” to greet the other students. They immediately scattered to dodge Fang and hurried away with their things.  
          “Miss Wycliff,” came the voice of Professor Hagrid. With class over and most of the students gone, he had walked up to Holly who was in the process of getting to her feet. “Would you an’ yer friends like ta join us fer tea Thursday?” He nodded over at Albus, Rose and Taylor who were just putting the last of Albus’s things back in his bag. No doubt they had been invited too. The tea was sort of a Potter tradition.  
          Holly looked at Mark and then Becky. They both nodded. “Yes, sir,” Holly replied. “We’d like that.”  
          “Good!” said the Professor happily. “I’m makin’ up sumthin’ real special fer the occasion!”  
          Holly cringed inwardly. Professor Hagrid’s cooking was rarely eatable! Aloud she said, “I can’t wait!” and wondered if Becky’s first aid kit had anything for indigestion.


	17. Chapter 17

          The evening meal was a jovial event with people laughing, talking, discussing the latest news, plans... Enjoying the familiar mix of emotions, Holly permitted herself to relax and enjoy the food. What a difference a day could make. Only yesterday, Holly had dreaded the Great Hall. As she ate, Holly idly listened to the sounds and conversations around her.  
          Some of the older boys were eagerly talking about quidditch try-outs; others were discussing homework assignments.  
          Two of the first year girls were jumping squeamishly at the sight of a large cockroach and dung beetle roaming around on the table. Donald rescued a wolf spider from being squished by a well-aimed book. Clearly the first years hadn’t yet learned that bugs were an everyday part of the Hufflepuff table. Susan liked to let them out and forage for food at mealtimes.  
          One first year moaned to another about how his wand didn’t work properly…  
          “Did you get it from Ollivander’s?” asked Becky interrupting their conversation.  
          “Yes,” replied the boy—his name was Benjie-something. “Then give it some time and you’ll get it. Your wand works just fine,” replied Becky with confidence. “No one’s wands are better than Olivanders.”  
          Holly smiled. No one would know that better than Becky. She had gotten her first wand from a vendor off the street and had to make a special trip to Diagon Alley to replace it. Then Holly frowned. Hadn’t Becky said Mr. Olivander mentioned the name Bellatrix when he saw it? Was that the wand Holly had seen Bellatrix hold only that summer? Holly closed her eyes and tried to remember. It could have been the same but Holly wasn’t sure. She had known so little about wands when she saw Becky’s. But Holly could remember Bellatrix easily: her stately stance and venomous emotions. If the wand were anything like it’s owner, no wonder it gave Becky problems.  
          Holly opened her eyes and took another bite. A movement in the air caught her eye. She looked up and saw a single round ball—brown and lumpy—a meatball, sail through the air from the Gryffindor table towards the Slytherins. As she watched, the ball made a perfect ark and landed in the middle of a bowl of tomato soup. The resulting splash sent bright red droplets of soup over the nearby Slytherins. For a moment the whole hall was deathly quiet.  
          Then several of the soup-splashed Slytherins grabbed some food off their plates and threw it across the room at the Gryffindors! Total bedlam followed! The Gryffindors returned fire with more food of their own and the air filled with flying food in every direction! Holly ducked down under the table to avoid getting hit. Several other Hufflepuffs did the same.  
          “STOP!” bellowed a thunderous voice. Suddenly the Hall went absolutely quiet. Holly peeked out from under the table and saw the tall imperious figure Headmistress McGonagall in her tartan robes standing on top of the raised dais. Her wand was pointed at her throat and she looked furious! “THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE!” she said in a voice louder than anything Holly could ever imagine. “THIRTY POINTS FROM THE GRYFFINDORS FOR STARTING THIS! TWENTY POINTS FROM THE SLYTHERINS FOR CONTINUING IT! NO ONE SHALL LEAVE THE HALL UNTIL THIS MESS IS CLEANED UP!” With that, Headmistress lowered her wand and swept out of the Great Hall. Every step of her passing could be easily heard in the silence that followed. The huge double doors of the Hall closed behind her locking with a resounding “Clunk” that seemed to emphasize her words.  
          Holly stood up besides the table and looked with dismay at the mess around her. Food was everywhere! On the tables, chairs, floor, walls, even the ceiling! “You heard her,” said Gwen with resignation. She was standing near Holly on the other side of the table. “Let’s start cleaning.”  
          “But we didn’t do anything!” protested Lynette.  
          “True,” agreed Ben Harris, the other Hufflepuff prefect. “But we’re not getting out of here until this place is cleaned and I’ve a lot of homework to get done tonight. So the sooner we finish, the sooner we can leave.  
          “Think of it as a good opportunity to practice your cleaning spells,” added Gwen. She pointed her wand near a tipped goblet where a puddle of grape juice pulled onto the table and dripped steadily over the edge and said, _“Terego!”_ causing the juice to disappear. She repeated the spell on the floor cleaning up the rest of the juice from that particular goblet.  
          Nearby Mark pointed his wand at a fallen plate and said, _“Reparo!”_ and the broken pieces came back together making the plate whole again.  
          Holly sighed. She drew out her wand and sought out a mess to clean.  
          “Look!” whispered Becky anxiously. “Some milk fell into my flobberworm bucket! Do you suppose they’re O.K?” The three had carried their buckets in to dinner rather than make a trip to the dorms first and force Holly listen to Pettigrew more than necessary. Holly looked down into the bucket Becky indicated. A glass of milk had somehow fallen into the bucket along with a piece of cake. The cake looked a sodden mass and the milk had already turned the contents of the bucket a watery greenish white.  
          “Let’s hope so,” said Holly staring dubiously at the mess within the bucket. “But that’ll have to wait until later.”

 ********************

          Much, much later, Mark and Holly entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Becky and the three flobberworm buckets had gone back to the dorms with some of the other Hufflepuff students. Becky was anxious to see what she could do to salvage the contents of the milk-contaminated bucket.  
          Professor Lovegood put down the wizard crossword she was working and rose from her desk. “Come with me,” she told Holly while moving to the practice room. Using her wand, she tapped the door three times. “Everything is ready,” she said as the door swung open. Holly stepped inside and Mark followed. The Practice Room interior looked much like a small rectangular kitchen. The walls were lined with counters with cupboards and drawers beneath and shelves overhead. The shelves were filled with dishes, pots, pans and all sorts of cooking equipment. Holly had no doubt the cupboards and drawers were filled as well. In each corner stood a suit of armor. In the center of the room was a sturdy metal cage with bars. Within it, Holly could see several bright blue figures with glowing eyes that watched her steadily.  
          “There are five pixies,” said Professor Lovegood as she drew her wand. Both Holly and Mark drew their own wands as well.  
          “Hang onto your wand,” whispered Mark and Holly saw he was holding his own wand tightly. While watching the pixies warily, Holly checked to make sure her wand was clutched securely within her fingers.  
          “Ready?” asked Professor Lovegood while regarding them with her silvery eyes. Both students nodded. _“Alohomora!”_  
          The lock on the cage door gave an audible “click.” Almost at the same time the door swung open and a blur of blue instantly sped out! Suddenly something yanked Holly’s hair and she felt herself being lifted into the air!  
_“Stupify!”_ shouted Mark. The upward motion stopped and Holly fell to the floor with a crash.  
          Dazed, Holly lay on the ground when she heard a yelp of surprise from Mark. Turning to look, Holly saw Mark was being dragged towards the cage by his pants’ leg! “Get ‘em!” he cried frantically.  
          Abruptly realizing she still held her wand, Holly aimed it at the pixie dragging Mark. _“Stupify!”_ she shouted. But before she could complete the spell, the pixie released Mark and zoomed off.  
          Mark scrambled over to Holly. “Back to back!” he said breathlessly. And Holly quickly complied.    
          Leaning against Mark’s back Holly could get a getter picture of what was going on in the room—but not for long. Something came flying out of the air towards her! Holly instinctively ducked.  
_“Impedimenta!”_ shouted Mark while pointing his wand at the object. The pot stopped moving forward and dropped to the ground like a stone clattering loudly in the process. “You get the pixies!” he told her as another pot and a dish came flying their way. “I’ll hold them off! _Impedimenta!”_ he shouted again causing the dish and pot to crash to the ground.  
          A loud clanking sound started up dominating the other sounds in the room. Holly looked to the source and saw one of the suits of armor heading straight towards them! _“Immobulus!”_ she screamed pointing her wand at the suit! The suit froze in place!  
          “That’s it!” said Mark approvingly. “Keep it up!”  
          Encouraged, Holly sought out another pixie that she thought she might be able to hit. Finally she spied one in a cupboard tossing plates at them. She pointed her wand a bit in front of the pixie and shouted, _“Stupify!”_ As before, the pixie moved the moment it heard her speak—right into the spell! It froze; then fell off the shelf and onto the floor.  
          “Two more!” said Mark.  
          Aiming carefully, Holly was able to stun a third pixie and Mark swiftly pointed his wand at the last and shouted _“Immobulous!”_ stopping the final pixie in its tracks.  
          “We did it!” said Holly breathless with excitement.  
          “Yes,” agreed Mark. “That was easier than last time!”  
          “Practice often improves performance,” said Professor Lovegood from the doorway. She had stood there calmly throughout their session watching quietly but not interfering. Holly vaguely wondered why the pixies hadn’t gone after her…  
          “I think working together made a big difference too,” commented Mark as he stepped forward to examine one of the now-stiff pixies.  
          “Teamwork is a skill that does not always occur to students at Hogwarts,” observed Professor Lovegood cryptically. “You still must put the pixies back in the cage,” she reminded them.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly and she opened the cage door wide and proceeded to drag the nearest pixie in. They were heavier than she expected and their limbs were stiff in outstretched positions making them exceedingly awkward to fit into the cage.  
          “Don’t unfreeze them,” advised Mark quickly while noting Holly’s difficulty at the cage. He was busying dismantling the armor around one of the other pixies. “Becky told me Shirley did that yesterday. Her spell hit two pixies instead of one, they both got away and they had a heck of a time re-catching them. The Slytherins re-caught both and tried to claim extra house points for catching them twice!”  
          Holly laughed. “They’ll try anything for a point won’t they,” she said while stuffing the next pixie into the cage. “So did they get it?”  
          “No,” replied Mark with satisfaction. “The rest of the students argued that they weren’t truly caught a second time because the cage door hadn’t been closed and secured first and they won out!” He brought over a third pixie for Holly to somehow get into the cage.  
          Then the two of them worked together to fit the final two pixies into the cage. Finally, Mark forced the cage door closed and Holly grabbed the lock, fitted it through the clasp and pushed the lock pieces together until it closed with a satisfying “click.”  
          “There!” said Holly with satisfaction, “we’re done!”  
          “So you are,” said Professor Lovegood approvingly. With a wave of her wand, the pixies all unfroze. They righted and untangled themselves and glared balefully out at the students through the cage bars.  
          “And I did it without “loosing it!” Holly added proudly.  
          “So you did,” agreed Professor Lovegood thoughtfully.  
          “I knew I could!” Holly added confidently.  
          “Did you? Why?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Why didn’t you “loose it?” questioned Professor Lovegood. “You did not expect to “loose it” today and you were correct. I presume you had no expectation of “loosing it” on the train. Yet you did. What is the difference?”  
          “Um,” Holly thought. “Pixies!” she said triumphantly. “It was against pixies not people.”  
          “Anything else?”  
          Holly thought some more. “Well, it was a class assignment and we were working together. That was different too.”  
          “True,” mused Professor Lovegood.  
          “So can I join in on the practices?” asked Holly hopefully, “I mean, if they’re not against other students, like before?”  
          “Not yet,” replied Professor Lovegood. “Can you describe for me the situations where you are most likely to “loose it?”  
          Holly bit her lip and shook her head. “People with wands?” she said uncertainly. “On trains?”  
          “Were you on a train with Pettigrew?”  
          “No, ma’am,” replied Holly lowering her head.  
          “Then we must wait before permitting you to work with the rest of the class.” She pointed her wand at the practice room door and it swung silently open. “However, it was very good job capturing the pixies,” she told them. “You are free to leave,” she added dismissing the two.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” said Holly a little disappointed. She and Mark turned to leave the classroom. Then Holly paused and turned around. “Professor?” she began hesitatingly.  
          “Yes?”  
          “You knew Pettigrew didn’t you?”  
          “I met him, yes.” And as she spoke, Holly could feel Professor Lovegood’s whispery emotions seem to chill.  
          “Could you tell me about him? I mean, I don’t want to bother you about him,” Holly added hurriedly, sensing a freezing of emotions at the request. “But we were thinking that maybe if, if I knew more about him I could find a way to get him out of my mind and stop the flashbacks…”  
          There was a long pause before Professor Lovegood responded. Holly waited anxiously. There was no expression on Professor Lovegood’s serene looking face, but Holly could sense a multitude of emotions, none of them good, beneath the surface. “I am afraid I cannot tell you much,” she finally said. “Peter Pettigrew was supposed to be dead except he wasn’t. But you know that.” Holly nodded solemnly. “He served Lord Voldemort, of course, and one hand was silver,” the Professor continued quietly. “I expect you know that too.” Holly nodded again. Professor Lovegood closed her eyes in thought. Then she opened them and looked directly at Holly. “Pettigrew bowed a lot,” she said softly, “and always obeyed Lord Voldemort’s orders promptly without question. No one seemed to like him but they tolerated him, I think, because of Lord Voldemort. Pettigrew brought us food occasionally but never lingered to talk, torment or torture…”  
          “Wait a minute!” interrupted Mark. “He brought you _food?_   Were you a prisoner of Lord Voldemort or something?” Holly quickly elbowed Mark to be silent.  
          “What happened to him?” Holly hastily asked preventing Professor Lovegood from answering Mark’s question. Holly already knew the answer to that one and she knew discussing it would only bring the Professor more pain.  
          “I expect he died, but I don’t know,” replied Professor Lovegood honestly. “I never saw him again after we escaped…”  
          “Thank you,” said Holly before Mark could speak. “We’ve got to be going now,” she told the Professor. “I’m sorry we bothered you.”  
          “That’s all right,” replied the Professor softly, clearly lost in her memories. “It was a long time ago.” Holly could feel sorrow and pain behind the Professor’s words. It may have been a long time ago, but the feelings were still strong. “I hope that helps,” she added her emotions again whispery and soft.  
          “I hope so to,” replied Holly. “Thank you again.” Grabbing Mark’s arm Holly swiftly dragged him out of the room. She wasn’t sure how any of that would help her but Holly was certain dredging up the old memories didn’t do much good for the Professor.

********************

          “Professor Lovegood was a prisoner of Lord Voldemort!” hissed Mark once they rounded the corner.  
          “I know,” replied Holly matter-of-factly. “And if I had realized that was when she knew Pettigrew I would have never asked her!”  
          “It’s not in any of the books!” exclaimed Mark ignoring Holly.  
          Lord Voldemort did a lot of things that didn’t make it into the books,” said Holly.  
          “So how do you know?” asked Mark pulling Holly to a stop.  
          “She told me about it last year,” said Holly. “That’s when she taught herself Occlumency.” Holly shook herself loose from Mark and resumed walking. “And don’t you bother her with it ever again,” Holly told him. “It can’t have been a very happy experience,” she added. “Just thinking about it makes Professor Lovegood upset.”  
          “Oh.” That stopped Mark for a moment. “But what happened?” he persisted keeping pace with Holly.  
          “What do you mean?”  
          “How’d she get away?”  
          “She was rescued,” replied Holly bluntly while moving swiftly down the corridor.  
          “Rescued? How? By whom?”  
          Holly sighed. “Professor Lovegood told me everyone, including Harry, was rescued by a free elf named Dobbie,” answered Holly.  
          “Harry? _Harry Potter!?_ ”  
          “Yes.”  
          “But I don’t remember reading that he was ever captured by Lord Voldemort!” exclaimed Mark.  
          “Well, he must have been,” replied Holly firmly. “You should know better than to count on books when it comes to Cousin Harry,” she scolded. “Cousin Harry never talks about what happened and neither do any of his friends so how could any book get it all! I’m sure Professor Lovegood would never lie about something like this. She said Dobbie _died_ rescuing them and the thought of his death still makes her very sad.”  
          “I suppose you’re right about the books,” Mark grudgingly admitted. “And I can’t imagine Professor Lovegood lying either. Shall we head back to the dorms?” he asked pausing on the landing before the stairs.  
          “Um, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to go to the Room of Requirement. It’s been ages since I last practiced the organ,” replied Holly.  
          “O.K.” replied Mark. “I can easily do my homework there as at the dorms. You sure you can manage the extra flight of stairs?” The Room of Requirement was on the seventh floor.  
          Holly stared at the stairway apprehensively. It was only one more flight; could she manage it? She sighed. “If I must, I must,” Holly said with resignation. “I can’t let Pettigrew rule my life. Maybe he won’t talk now that I know more about him.”  
          “You really believe that?”  
          “No,” answered Holly glumly. “Professor Lovegood only confirmed what I already knew. Neither the Headmaster nor Voldemort liked or trusted the Pettigrew I saw. They both kind of treated him like dirt. Pettigrew was supposed to be the Hogwarts caretaker, but he obeyed Voldemort not the Headmaster. Wait a minute—didn’t you say there was a passage that led from the seventh floor to the sixth?’’ Mark nodded. “Well, maybe we could find the entrance on the sixth floor…Perhaps Pettigrew only speaks when I go up the main stairs…” Encouraged by the thought, the two mounted the stairs.  
          They had just finished the first flight when Mark suddenly pulled Holly off the stairs. “What?” she asked, confused, her head still reeling from Pettigrew’s high squeak.  
          “Listen!” said Mark.  
          Free of Pettigrew Holly could now hear a loud whisper: “Holly!” the voice said, “Come here!” It came from just beyond the landing where the corridor turned.  
          “It’s Albus,” informed Holly immediately recognizing the emotions with the voice. “Come on!”  
          “No!” whispered the voice urgently. “Just Holly!” Holly stopped and looked at Mark. “He’s just around the corner,” she assured him mindful of Healer Winonan’s directives. “I won’t be alone.” Mark nodded.  
          “I’ll wait for you here,” he told her.  
          Holly walked forward and rounded the corner. Albus stood just on the other side. He was visibly upset but Holly couldn’t tell why.  
          “You know that spell you worked on Sylvia to grow her hair?” he asked without preamble.  
          “Yes?”  
          “Well, do you think you could that for me?”  
          “I suppose,” replied Holly thoughtfully, “but why?”  
          “You promise not to tell?”  
          “Course!”  
          Albus turned slowly around. On the back of his head was the letter “S!” Seriously! His hair had been shaved off creating a bald strip three centimeters wide that curved around forming the letter “S!”  
          “Oh, Albus!” whispered Holly horrified. “What happened?”  
          “I got jumped outside the library! It was all over almost before I knew it had happened!” he replied. His emotions radiated both shame and embarrassment.  
          “Who did this?” Holly demanded. She put her hand up hesitantly and traced the bare skin with her finger in disbelief.  
          “I’m not sure exactly, they got me from behind so I didn’t see who they were, but I saw Paige Crowley right before it all happened.”  
          “Did they say anything?”  
          “Yeah,” he replied with disgust. “They said they wanted me to know what it was like for everyone to laugh at me like they had at them so it could have been anybody from that compartment.”  
          “You need to report this, to complain!” insisted Holly.  
          “No!” replied Albus swiftly. “It’ll be my word against theirs and I’m not even sure who _they_ were! Can you just fix this so nobody knows?” he pleaded. “I don’t want to get teased tomorrow!”  
          “I’ll try,” said Holly pulling out her wand. “How did they do this?”  
          “Uh, I think they used a Weasley super shaver,” replied Albus. “It’s supposed to provide a super close shave and add conditioner so the beard won’t come back for a week!”  
          “Great!” muttered Holly. She pointed her wand at the base of the “S” and whispered the hair-growing hex. To her immense relief, the hair began to grow—but much more slowly than Sylvia’s had. When the hair looked long enough, Holly moved the wand up higher and repeated the hex. It took a while but finally the back of the head looked normal again.  
          “Thanks!” said Albus with relief when Holly finished. “I owe you one. Remember, you said you wouldn’t tell, O.K.?” reminded Albus. “Not even Rose!”  
          “You’re not telling Rose what happened?” asked Holly surprised. “Why not?”  
          “Rose and Taylor were busy doing homework and I was bored” confessed Albus. “So I thought I’d slip down to the kitchen to get a snack. Rose said I shouldn’t go anywhere alone and I said the train thing was over now that the Slytherins got their spot removal stuff… I don’t want Rose to think she was right!”  
          Holly sighed. “O.K., I won’t tell Rose. But you and Rose have got to stop bickering! And promise me you won’t travel alone for a while.”  
          “I promise,” agreed Albus. He followed Holly out onto the landing area where Mark had seated himself, waiting.  
          Mark stood upon their arrival. He radiated curiosity. “Uh, just a little something to take care of,” Holly told him. “Nothing, really.”  
          “Yeah,” assured Albus. “Thanks, Holly,” he repeated.  
          “Ready?” Mark asked. He still radiated curiosity but could tell he wouldn’t get any answers.  
          Holly and Albus nodded. “Ready,” Holly replied steeling herself for the return of Pettigrew. She took a deep breath and placed her foot on the stairs.  
_“Come on, missy,”_ encouraged Pettigrew making Holly cringe with every syllable. _“You can do it…”_  
          Holly breathed a sigh of relief when she got off at the fifth floor. She and Mark said “good-bye” to Albus and walked down the corridor.  
          “You still want to try the Room of Requirement?” asked Mark as they walked.  
          “More than ever,” assured Holly. So they continued down the corridors until they reached a huge painting depicting an old fashioned classroom with a stern looking headmaster who paced between the rows of students industriously working. From what Mark remembered, the painting was the other end of the seventh floor passage.  
          “May we?” asked Mark of the headmaster who paused from his pacing and looked suspiciously out at them.  
          “Quiet!” instructed the headmaster. “They are taking an exam!”  
          “Sorry,” said Mark in a whisper, “but how do we enter the passage to the seventh floor?”  
          “Password?” the Headmaster asked crisply.  
          “We don’t know,” replied Mark.  
          “Well, at least you’re honest,” said the Headmaster grumpily. “You need to ask an honest person for the password.” With that, he turned and sharply rapped the desk of one of the students with his ruler. The student jumped in his seat dropping a bag of marbles onto the floor. The marbles spilled out of the bag and scattered rolling every which way. The student leaped out of his seat and began to gather up the marbles.  
          “Psst,” said the student collecting marbles when he neared the frame. Holly and Mark looked at him closer. It was a young boy, maybe 9 or 10 years of age with bright red hair and matching freckles across his nose.  
          “Yes?” asked Mark.  
          “What’s the answer to nine times seven?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “I’ll tell you who the “honest person” is if you give me the answer to nine times seven,” the student whispered. He glanced over his shoulder anxiously to make sure the Headmaster had not observed them.  
          “Well, it’s—”  
          “Don’t!” interrupted Holly quickly. “Didn’t you hear the Headmaster? They’re taking an exam! You oughtn’t give out the answer when it’s an exam!”  
          “That’s true,” said Mark regretfully. “Sorry,” he told the boy, “I can’t tell you the answer.”  
          The boy looked so sorrowful as he stuffed the bag of marbles in his pocket that Holly took pity on him. “Wait a minute!” she said to the student earnestly.  
          “Yes?” he said looking at her hopefully.  
          “Do you know your tens’ table?”  
          “Course!” replied the boy disdainfully.  
          “Well, just multiply ten times seven and then subtract seven. That’ll be the right answer.”  
          “Really?” the boy’s eyes lit up.  
          “Really,” assured Holly. “Good luck with your exams.”  
          “Thanks. You’re nice!” added the boy with a grin. “What’s your name?”  
          “Holly.” There was an audible “click” and the painting swung open revealing a dark musty passageway behind. Mark and Holly stared at the opening in surprise.  
          “How do you suppose that happened?” Mark asked.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Holly. “But let’s worry about it later.” She stepped into the opening so it couldn’t close up. Then Holly peered ahead cautiously. The passage turned sharply to the left so she couldn’t see much of it. But what she could see had no steps, was very narrow and filled with cobwebs. “You sure this is the one?” she asked Mark seeking reassurance.  
          “Should be,” he confirmed, “but you never know. Want to give it a try?”  
          Holly thought about the creepy looking passage and then of Peter Pettigrew’s high whiney voice and shuttered. Neither was very appealing, but of the two… “Yes,” she said firmly and pulled out her wand. _“Lumnos!”_ she said while waving her wand. The tip of her wand lit up with a soft glow.  
          Mark pulled out his wand and said _“Lumnos!”_ His wand lit up and the two ventured further into the passage. The painting closed silently behind them and sealed with a gentle “click.”

********************

          The passageway twisted to the right and then circled left before Holly finally saw some steps leading up. She stopped and stared at it apprehensively. Then she took a deep breath. “Here goes,” she announced while she cautiously placed her foot on that step. Then she placed her other foot on the next step, and then a third… A wide smile split Holly’s face. “No voice!” she announced eagerly. Holly practically skipped up the stairs. “Who knew going up stairs could be so fun!” she added happily. “Come on!” she urged Mark and he had to hurry to keep up.  
          They came out on a familiar corridor on the seventh floor. The two immediately headed down the hall to the Room of Requirement. Along the way, Holly told Mark how she had practiced the piano over the summer but it wasn’t the same and how her mum had given her some new music books for her birthday. Holly was anxious to try them out on the organ…  
          After a while, they came to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls. The Room of Requirement was directly across from it. Mark stood to one side while Holly immediately started walking down the corridor thinking, “ _I need a place where I can learn how to selectively block; I need a place where I can learn how to selectively block; I need a place…_ ” Holly stole a glance at the blank wall across from the tapestry as she walked. Nothing. When she reached the end of the corridor, Holly turned around and paced the floors again. By the third time she paced the corridor there was still nothing. Holly frowned. The first time she tried to find the room of requirement, it had taken ages for the door to appear. But after that it had appeared readily. What was wrong?  
          Holly closed her eyes and tried again: “ _I need a place where I can learn how to selectively block; I need a place where I can learn how to selectively block; I need a place…_ ” Back and forth she walked but when she looked again, there was no door!  
          “Perhaps you’re not thinking the right thing,” suggested Mark.  
          “Of course I am,” asserted Holly. “These are the words I used to get the door to open last year.”  
          “But that was last year,” reminded Mark. “You’re a different person, now. Maybe that’s not what you really need this year…”  
          Holly thought about that. Did she really need to learn how to selectively block? Maybe Mark had a point. She had met and escaped Lord Voldemort himself! Somehow the need to learn how to selectively block seemed to pale compared to that. So why was she here?  
          “Maybe what you really need right now,” continued Mark interrupting Holly’s thoughts, “is just a place to play music… After all, that’s all you’ve been talking about once we reached this floor.”  
           Was that what she really wanted? Could it be that simple? Holly smiled. She thought of the huge smoky old pipe organ with its many stops and wheezy bellows. She thought of the rich beautiful sound that came out of it when she placed her fingers on the yellowed keys and the need to make those sounds her own. Holly closed her eyes while still smiling. _“I need a place to practice organ,”_ she said to herself and again walked the corridor.  
           But after three passes, the wall across the tapestry was still blank! Holly stopped, crushed beyond belief. She had been so certain that was it! So certain she would again be able to play the organ. She closed her eyes and tried again. _“I really, really need a place to practice organ,”_ she told herself and she thought of the hours she spent on a piano where familiar tunes had sounded oddly flat and muted to her ear after the full volume of the organ. She thought of the new books she had eagerly packed in her bag in anticipation of a practice session… She had waited all summer for a chance to play the organ again; she just _had_ to play… Back and forth Holly walked filling herself with her need to play the organ, but the wall remained stubbornly blank. Determined, Holly kept trying.  
           “It’s getting late,” said Mark softly placing a hand on Holly’s shoulder stopping her forward motion. “If a door was going to appear,” he told her gently, “it would have by now.”  
           “Why won’t it appear?” asked Holly trying hard to keep from crying.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Mark. “Maybe you’re still wording it wrong somehow. Maybe you don’t need it enough. Maybe it’s something else you know nothing about like the wrong day or hour. We should ask Professor Longbottom. He’ll know… Let’s get back to the dorm,” he suggested and started to leave. But Holly remained standing in front of the blank wall unwilling to give up. “Come on,” said Mark returning. He took hold of Holly’s hand and pulled her gently away from the wall. “You can try again later…”  
          Holly could hardly see the rugs on the floor for the tears in her eyes. Despite what Mark said, she was sure it was all her own fault somehow. Worse, Holly hadn’t realized how much she had counted on the organ music to help her cope with Hogwarts until it was suddenly somehow snatched away…  
          Someone was near! Holly pulled Mark to a halt. It was an emotion Holly recognized just around the corner! Richards. _“Just great!”_ moaned Holly silently. Tom Richards was who she _didn’t_ want to see, especially not now. Not that she ever wanted to see him, but now would be especially bad…  
          “What?” questioned Mark while Holly hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.   It wouldn’t do for Richards to see her crying. “What is it?” repeated Mark.  
          “Company,” replied Holly in a low voice just as Tom Richards burst around the corner.  
          Richards certainly looked better without the spots on his face and a lot cleaner and neater than when Holly had seen him in Knockturn Alley. But the anger and fury remained along with worry. Momentarily surprised by seeing Mark and Holly in the corridor, Richards recovered quickly. “I see you finally dumped Smith, Owens,” he began derisively, “but couldn’t you find someone better than a _Potter?_ ”  
          Mark flushed. “She’s not a Potter,” said Mark defensively. “And we’re not dating!”  
          “Yeah, right!” replied Richards with blatant disbelief. “So what are you two doing here?”  
          “I had some make up work to do,” replied Holly quickly. Richards undoubtedly knew she took Divination so that could explain their presence on the seventh floor.  
          “At this hour?” retorted Richards suspiciously. “A likely story. So what are you _really_ doing here?”  
          “What are you doing here?” countered Mark boldly. He was clearly trying to distract Richards.  
          “I, uh—I’m on patrol!” responded Richards defensively. It had been the wrong question to ask. The response was a blatant lie and Richards’ worry and guilt about whatever he was actually doing here seemed to amplify his existing anger, hatred and suspicion! Holly could feel a familiar build-up before a spell would be cast—any second now…  
          “Actually, I’m glad we ran into you,” said Mark suddenly.  
          “What?” the build-up stopped abruptly to be replaced by confusion. Equally confused, Holly struggled to focus on Mark’s words.  
          “We wanted to thank you for not telling on Holly,” Mark explained further. His voice was confident but his emotions were uncertain.  
          “Huh?”  
          “On the train,” said Mark more confidently. “Holly’s really bad with a wand, you know, and I guess with everyone else waving a wand she got all excited and, uh, you know, lost it! We’re all kind of embarrassed by what happened. It would have been just awful if we started the year with negative House points.”  
          “Uh, yeah,” said Holly adding on to Mark’s words. Richards’ confusion and indecision had increased which somehow helped her think more clearly. “I was really tired,” Holly added elaborating, “and all the emotions were so strong and conflicting that when the lights went out and the train jolted so suddenly, I, uh, didn’t know what I was doing! I didn’t hurt anyone did I?” she asked in a concerned voice.  
          “Uh, no.” The anger in Richards dropped to a low simmer. He was clearly having a hard time remaining angry while being “thanked.”  
          “Oh, good,” replied Holly with obvious relief. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cast that spell and it would have been just awful if I had hit someone.”  
          “Yeah, well, it’s late,” Richards muttered darkly. “Get out of here!”  
          “Yes, sir, thank you sir,” said Mark. He grabbed Holly’s hand and hurried her past Richards.  
          “Thank you!” called out Holly as they left.

*********************

          Mark found the passageway entrance and urged Holly into it.  
          “That was brilliant!” whispered Holly appreciatively as they went down the stairs. “What made you think to thank him?”  
          “Well, it worked for you with that security agent,” replied Mark. “I figured it was worth a try. Just glad it worked in time,” he added.  
          “In time?”  
          “Yeah, before you, uh, lost it again.”  
          “Lost it? What do you mean? I wasn’t going to loose it!” protested Holly. Mark didn’t answer but kept moving down the stairs. Holly hurried to follow. After some more steps Holly asked more calmly, “What makes you think I was going to loose it?”  
          “Your wand,” replied Mark briefly.  
          “Huh?”  
          “You were drawing the wand you got from the Headmaster,” explained Mark.  
          “I was?”  
          “Yeah. You never draw that wand,” continued Mark. “Yet that was the wand we found next to you on the train. Your other wand was packed remember? You had to have used the Headmaster’s wand to cast the first spell.”  
          “But the situation upstairs was nothing like the train!” protested Holly. “Maybe I just had an itch…” Though in truth, Holly couldn’t remember an itch or a need to scratch.  
          “Perhaps,” replied Mark. “But they both had one thing in common—Richards.”  
          “But it’s not the same!”  
          “Isn’t it?” countered Mark. “I bet Richards was about to cast a spell on the train with his wand and you got there first, just like you did with Pettigrew!”  
          “Richards is nothing like Pettigrew!” protested Holly not wanting to believe Mark.  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Mark, “but you told us what Pettigrew said to you. He hated the Headmaster with a passion. And Richards hates anything Potter, including you!” The two walked down more stairs while Holly tried to remember their encounter with Richards. Richards always had a lot of rage. Had he been getting ready to use his wand too? She didn’t know, couldn’t remember.  
          “You know, that’s the first time I’ve seen Richards without Crowley,” Mark mused aloud interrupting Holly’s thoughts. “I wonder where she was.”  
          “Richards broke up with Paige,” Holly told him. “Or rather, Paige broke up with him; we saw them fighting in Knockturn Alley.”  
          “Oh. That’s too bad. That might help explain why he seems so much angrier this year.” They reached the bottom of the stairs and started through the narrow passageways.  
          “I think Albus knows,” Mark said abruptly.  
          “Knows what?” questioned Holly.  
          “About you and your wand,” explained Mark. “He was looking directly at you on the landing before he put away his wand. Before Divination, remember?”  
          “Was he?” Holly asked faintly. She couldn’t remember him doing that.  
          “And he did the same thing after the flobberworm incident. I bet he saw you go for your wand. I did,” Mark added, “I just didn’t know why…”  
          “I don’t remember going for my wand,” asserted Holly. “It’s probably just a coincidence. Besides, Richards wasn’t there those times…”  
          “The hatred was,” Mark countered. “And wands were out ready for use. I think it’s the emotions you can’t handle, Holly,” Mark exclaimed. “Strong emotions and the Slytherins are full of them!” They walked on in silence while Holly considered Mark’s words. “Did you block while you were in that other world?” Mark asked suddenly as they turned another corner.  
          “No,” whispered Holly. “I didn’t dare.”  
          “You haven’t been blocking now, either, have you?” accused Mark as they walked.  
          “Um, no,” Holly admitted.  
          “You’ve got to start blocking,” urged Mark, “especially around the Slytherins.”  
          “I couldn’t,” Holly exclaimed appalled at the thought. “I don’t feel safe when I block,” she added as they came to a halt in front of a stone wall bearing a huge painting. Holding their lit wands up, Holly could see it looked like a painting of the same classroom they had seen before but the students were all gone. Only the Headmaster remained seated at his desk. He seemed to be grading papers.  
          The Headmaster looked up at their arrival. “Password,” he said while adjusting his narrow rimmed glasses.  
          Holly and Mark looked at each other. “We don’t know the password,” admitted Mark.  
          “Well, at least you’re honest about it,” said the Headmaster with a sigh. “But you’ll have to find someone honest to tell you the password.”  
          “You mean we’ll have to go back up the stairs and around?” asked Holly in dismay.  
          “That’s right,” said the Headmaster calmly. “You need the password before you can come through here. Wait a minute!” he asked peering at them closely. “Didn’t I see you talking to my students earlier?”  
          “Um, yes,” replied Mark.  
          “Did you give out any answers?” the Headmaster demanded. “I can’t abide people who help others cheat!”  
          “Oh, no!” assured Mark, “we didn’t do that; it was an exam!”  
          “Are you sure?” he asked suspiciously.  
          Um, I did sort of help,” confessed Holly, “but I didn’t give him the answer, I swear, I just told him how to find the answer for himself…”  
          “Hmmm,” said the Headmaster. “Well, I suppose that kind of assistance is permissible… What’s your name, child?” he asked pulling out a quill and a clean piece of paper.  
          “Holly, sir.” The portrait swung open with an audible “click.” Holly and Mark looked at each other in surprise before stepping through the opening. They found themselves on the sixth floor corridor.  
          “Do you suppose it was the help or the honesty that opened it?” pondered Mark out loud as they continued down the corridor.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Holly thoughtfully. “Didn’t the map say anything about it?” she asked referring to the map Mark used to get to Divination the previous day.  
          “Not a word. I wonder why?”  
          The two stopped in front of the portrait of the Angry Judge—the entrance to their dorm. The Judge looked up angrily at their presence, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Without hesitation, Mark took a step forward. He cleared his throat and began,

_The Judge of the little courtroom,_  
_Went off in search of a broom._  
_He looked near and far, found one in a jar_  
_And swept away all of the gloom!_

          The Judge and the members of the court looked at each other in disbelief, roared with laughter and the frame swung open permitting entry. Holly found herself laughing at the limerick with the others and for a few minutes forgot about her worries.


	18. Chapter 18

          “Professor Longbottom?’ queried Holly. “May I ask you a question?”  
          “Certainly.”  
          It was just after Herbology. Holly had lingered behind the other students after dismissal. They had spent the period collecting water plants while the weather was still good and the Professor was busy rinsing off and then setting the wet gear out to dry after class. Becky and Mark were standing a discrete distance apart to give Holly a chance to talk with the Professor more privately.  
          “Is it possible to think you need something and you really don’t?” she asked.  
          “What do you mean?”  
          “Well, I’ve been trying to get into the Room of Requirement,” began Holly explaining...  
          That was an understatement. It had been a rather dismal morning. Holly had dragged Becky up super early so she could practice in the Room of Requirement before breakfast. The boy in the painting had winked and thanked Holly for the help on the exam but then confessed he had forgotten her name... When Holly repeated her name, the painting and frame swung open with a satisfactory “click.”  
          Things went downhill after that. Holly paced and paced in front of the blank wall with no luck. Unwilling to admit defeat, she had paced completely through breakfast time quitting only when Becky insisted they stop or they’d be late for Divination.  
          Fortunately, Mark slipped them each a hard boiled egg so they weren’t completely starved during class. Unfortunately, Professor Trelawney stared at Holly so much during class with those oversized glasses that Holly felt like ducking every time the Professor looked their way.  
          When she wasn’t looking at Holly, the Professor was staring at Albus making him so nervous that he kept dropping and spilling things. Then the Slytherins popped some _Weasley Blinking Eyes_ into Albus’ tea splashing water everywhere reminding both the class and the Professor about the “Evil Eye” comments she had made the previous time.  
          After which, Professor Trelawney spent the rest of the period muttering _“evil eye”_ under her breath in between class instruction much to the delight of the Slytherns. Holly’s tea leaves had looked disturbingly like a gray green eye staring back at her. Rather than let Albus see or hear about it Holly hastily stirred the contents of her cup until the leaves looked like a sodden ink spot, a shape that predicted “poor fortune” for those who “cheat.”  
          Herbology hadn’t been too bad until Albus tripped, landed in the muck and splashed all the neighboring Slytherins. “I didn’t mean to!” he exclaimed instantly. “I don’t know what happened! The roots seemed to reach out and grab me!”  
          Holly had been blocking since Divination, as per Mark’s suggestion the previous night, but she didn’t need to read emotions to tell that the Slytherins didn’t believe a word Albus said. Even some of the Ravenclaws had a look of disbelief. There was too much coincidence in the event for it to truly have been an accident. Albus left class early to clean up and get a change of clothes.  
          “I tried last night and again this morning,” continued Holly describing her efforts to get into the Room of Requirement. “I really, really wanted to practice but the door just wouldn’t open. I thought I needed to practice, but maybe it knows something I don’t… Or maybe something is wrong with me…” she ended in a desolate note.  
          “Hmmm,” said Professor Longbottom thoughtfully. “It sounds to me like the room is just busy.”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Well, it cannot meet your needs if it is helping someone else,” he continued.  
          “I don’t understand.”  
          “If someone is already in the room, it won’t open for you,” the Professor explained.  
          “But I was there so early,” Holly protested. “No one could have gotten there before me…”  
          “Maybe someone was there all night…”  
          “All night? Really?”  
          “It can happen. I remember I spent a couple of weeks in there before the Battle of Hogwarts. Several of us did.” Holly could feel a twinge of pride in the statement.  
          “But why?”  
          “Had to,” said the Professor succinctly. “The Death Eaters were after me. It was the safest place to hide.”  
          “And they never found you,” asked Holly wonderingly.  
          “No, though in retrospect, I’m not sure the Headmaster was trying too hard.”  
          Holly looked up at the Professor in surprise. “You don’t hate Headmaster Snape like the others do!” For the emotions she had felt when others spoke of Headmaster Snape did not seem as dark in Professor Longbottom.  
          “Of course I hated him,” admitted Professor Longbottom readily. “We all did. But given the times and who was in charge of the Ministry I guess we could have done a lot worse than Snape for Headmaster. It was a long time ago,” he added thoughtfully. “I don’t expect it matters much how I feel about him now.”  
          “No, sir,” replied Holly softly. “I don’t expect it does.” But it did matter. It mattered very much to Holly. Holly hadn’t found a way into the Room of Requirement, but she had found someone who had known Headmaster, someone who did not regard him with intense loathing. That meant a lot.

 ********************

           “I don’t get it,” complained Albus. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in Hagrid’s hut with James and Lawrence. Fang was draped over their laps, his tail flapping contentedly away under Albus’s nose. “No matter how hard I try, how careful I am I still keep on stumbling and things still seem to slip from my hands and break!” His whole being oozed frustration. Albus had managed to stumble at two different meals crashing each time into Slytherins in the process. In addition, there had been a wand fight in the common yard that lost the Gryffindors 10 House points! That was after Malfoy had ripped Albus’ bag, though Malfoy, of course, denied doing it.  
          “Perhaps it’s not all yer fault,” suggested Hagrid as he poured out the tea. The table had been hung up on a hook in the ceiling to give them all more room and Hagrid had to dodge around the suspended table legs it as he passed out the mugs. “Yeh weren’t like this last year!”  
          “True,” agreed Mark. He was sitting on the stack of firewood next to Taylor, who was perched on a sturdy crate near the fire.  
          “Teacakes anyone?” offered Hagrid as he returned the kettle to a hook suspended over the fire in the fireplace.  
          “Yes, please!” everyone said politely. Hagrid had never offered teacakes before but if they were anything like his biscuits, they were probably inedible. Hagrid moved to a cupboard on the other side of the room while being careful to not step on anyone. He opened the cupboard and grabbed a plate heaped with neatly cut squares from off the shelf. Each square was about the length of a thumb, lemony yellow in color and decorated with a spot of red on the top. The squares were stacked one on top of each other pyramid fashion.  
          “Those look very pretty,” said Rose as Hagrid offered her the plate. Rose was squished in Hagrid’s big easy chair with Lily—Rose was in the chair and Lily was more on its armrest.  
          “Thank yeh,” said Hagrid proudly. “I made ‘em myself.” Rose took a teacake and politely said, “Thanks. What kind are they?” she asked as she stared it suspiciously. Lily took one as well nodding her thanks.  
          “They’re called petit fours!” answered Hagrid. “Madam Beaubaxon gave me sum cookin’ lessons this summer,” he added explaining. From there, the plate was offered to Becky and Holly. They were sharing an armless table chair. Holly and Becky each took one. Then Becky took the plate from Hagrid and lowered it down to those sitting on the floor.  
          “Maybe you’ve been hexed,” suggested Rose while Holly examined her teacake. The surface was smooth and hard; it looked and felt like icing and the red spot on top looked like a dab of jam. Knowing Hagrid, Holly was certain the appearance was deceiving.  
          “Or jinxed,” added Mark.  
          “How do you tell?” asked Albus hopefully while shoving Fang’s tail away from his face. Fang sniffed politely at the teacake but showed no interest in actually eating one. James, Albus and Lawrence each took a teacake and then James took hold of the plate and passed it to Taylor and Mark.  
          “I don’t know about hexes but we can look for jinx stones,” said Holly remembering how the Slytherins had jinxed the Hufflepuffs her first year. The group immediately poured out the contents of the Albus’ bag onto the hut floor and examined them. They didn’t find anything, new, odd or unusual.  
          “Of course, finding nothing doesn’t mean anything,” mused Rose. “Maybe we are not looking for the right thing. I’ll do some research on hexes and bad luck curses,” said Rose resolutely.  
          While Albus repacked his bag Mark reached out and handed the partially-filled plate of teacakes back to Hagrid. Hagrid took one and bit into it while smiling with pleasure.  
          “Well?’ he asked expectantly looking at his guests. “How are they?”  
          Holly looked around the room. Each person held a teacake, but not one teacake had been tasted. Everyone looked hopefully at each other wondering who would brave the first bite. Holly ran her finger along the icing. Could she break off a piece to taste? What about a lick? That was easy enough. Holly raised the teacake up to her lips. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the rest of the group do the same. Holly closed her eyes and gently touched her tongue to the icing. It had a spicy hot taste similar to some of the curries she had eaten. It was not a flavor she expected from a teacake but it was not inedible. Cautiously she bit into a corner. Her teeth dug into the frosting and then hit a solid surface. She ground her teeth down some more finally breaking off a tiny piece of the cake. The frosting part was definitely spicy hot but the cake didn’t have much of a taste at all. Holly swallowed the small lump with difficulty. Like his biscuits, the Petit four was too hard to chew.  
          “The red stuff isn’t too bad,” pronounced Albus out loud. Holly opened her eyes in time to see Taylor nod in agreement. The topping of his teacake was completely gone as was Lily’s and Rose’s. Holly dabbed a finger tentatively in the red spot of her teacake and was raising it to her mouth when Hagrid spoke…  
          “That’s mashed beetle!” he said with pleasure. “I knew ya’d like it!” Holly immediately dropped her finger and loud choking/coughing sounds came from around the room.  
          “Who’d have thought,” said James with a straight face. Taylor suddenly looked a little green… Holly swallowed swiftly to fight the sudden nausea she felt that was not all her own…  
          “Might I ask how you made the icing?” asked Rose delicately. Her face was extremely pale.  
          “Crushed banana slugs and mustard seeds” replied Hagrid promptly. Holly gulped feeling more nauseated than before. Well, that explained the spicy part.  
          “May I have another?” piped up Lily. To Holly’s surprise, Lily’s teacake was completely gone and she sincerely wanted seconds.  
          “That’s my girl!” beamed Hagrid and he held the plate out to her. “How’s it going?” he asked while Lilly reached out and took two more teacakes from the plate. The rest of the group looked on with disbelief.  
          “Fine,” replied Lily curtly. Holly knew immediately that Lily was lying. Lily pulled out a handkerchief from her bag and carefully wrapped up the two teacakes. “For later,” she told Hagrid who beamed even more at her obvious appreciation. Even though she was squished next to Rose, Lily looked alone and forlorn to Holly, much as she had when Holly last saw her in the train car, but without the tears. Using her senses, Holly could tell Lily was not very happy at all.  
          “Anyone fer more tea?” asked Hagrid looking around at the group. As usual, the tea smelled more like muddy water so no one had drunk much.  
          There came a polite chorus of “No, thank-yous.”  
          “Teacakes?” Again, everyone, even Lily, shook their heads. So Hagrid took another teacake for himself, returned the plate to the shelf and closed the cupboard door. Then he turned and looked around at the group in his hut suddenly realizing there was no place for him to sit.  
          “You can sit here,” Taylor offered popping up from the crate he had been sitting on.  
          “Naw,” said Hagrid. “I’ve got a better idea. What do ya say we all go out ta feed th’ thestrals?”

********************

          “So what are all the flobberworms for?” asked Taylor as the group headed out the door.  
          “Can’t tell!” said Hagrid proudly, “it’s a surprise!”  
          “Did you know I’m an Empath?” Holly asked Lily quietly while she pulled the table off the hook. She had asked Lily to help so the two would leave last and have a chance to talk more privately.  
          “Yes, of course,” answered Lily.  
          “Do you know what that means?” With Lily’s help Holly set the table upright in the middle of the hut.  
          “It means you can tell other people’s emotions.”  
          “That’s right. It also means I can tell when someone is sad or upset. What’s wrong, Lily?”  
          “Nothing,” lied Lily. She pushed the chair under the table as she spoke. Without speaking Holly collected all the mugs and put them on the table. Then she found a broom and started sweeping the floor. She swept the dirt out the door and then returned the broom to its place.  
          “Everything!” Lily suddenly burst out as Holly picked up her bag before going outside. Lily grabbed her bag and continued, “The other students! They’re awful! They keep staring and pointing when they think I’m not looking, whispering behind my back and asking questions!”  
          “Well, that’s probably because of your father being famous,” said Holly reassuringly as they stepped outside. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass.”  
          “I know about that,” exclaimed Lily impatiently. “James explained that to me. But it’s not because of dad!”  
          “It isn’t?” queried Holly as she shut the hut door.  
          “It’s because of Albus!”  
          “Albus?”  
          “Yes! They keep asking me about him! They want to know what it’s like to have a “nutter” for a brother!”  
          “Albus is not a nutter!” said Holly firmly as the two headed towards the woods. “Anyone who knows him knows that!”  
          “I didn’t think so,” said Lily reassured. “But that’s not what they say!” They entered the woods dodging under a low branch and Lily added, “And then there’s the others who asked me if Albus always lies!”  
          “Albus doesn’t lie!” exclaimed Holly.  
          “I know,” said Lily. “But that’s not what the other kids say. Nobody believed him on the train! Nobody! Why don’t they believe him?”  
          They walked for several steps their feet crunching down of fallen leaves and Holly said, “Have you asked him?”  
          “I couldn’t do that!” said Lily aghast.  
          “He’s your brother,” reminded Holly.  
          “You saw how he is!” exclaimed Lily. “I can’t add to his problems!”  
          “He’d want to know,” insisted Holly but Lily did not respond. Holly could tell she wouldn’t mention it to Albus. They walked along a few more steps in silence and then Holly said, “I think it’s because Albus said he could see thestrals last year.”  
          “So?”  
          “Thestrals are supposed to be invisible,” explained Holly.  
          “Oh. So was he lying when he said he could see them?”  
          “Of course not,” assured Holly. “People who have “seen death” can see Thestrals,” she told Lily. “Unfortunately, nobody thinks Albus has “seen death” so they don’t believe he can see thestrals.”  
          “But Albus hasn’t seen anybody die…”  
          “Remember that room I told you about and the mirror?”  
          Lily’s mouth opened in a silent “Oh!” Her mouth closed and then she asked, “But why doesn’t he tell them about that?”  
          “It’s a pretty unbelievable story unless you were actually there,” began Holly thoughtfully. “And I know Albus doesn’t like talking about it. I guess he would rather be considered a “nutter” than describe what happened that day.”  
          “Some people aren’t very nice, are they?” said Lily solemnly.  
          “No, they’re not,” agreed Holly. Then she gave an involuntary shiver. The other students gave Albus a bad time because he claimed to see something that nobody thought he should be able to see. She wondered what they would do if they found out she was seeing and hearing things that didn’t exist and shouldn’t be there!  
          “Come on!” urged Albus excitedly from up ahead. “They’re here!”  
          Holly and Lily joined the others who had stopped on the edge of a small clearing. Hagrid had already scattered chunks of raw meat onto the ground. Lily gasped in amazement when she saw the pieces vanish bite by bite.  
          “Hello there,” greeted Albus softly as he stepped forward and picked up a chunk of meat. He held it outstretched in his hand. The meat rose and floated off his hand. A small corner seemed to vanish and then the meat fell to the ground. Albus reached out with his other hand and stroked something that could not be seen.  
          “I want to try,” exclaimed Lily excitedly.  
          “No, you can’t!” said Albus quickly looking over at her. “They’re terribly shy and they’d run off if you tried.”  
          “Oh,” said Lily disappointed.  
          “Besides, it’s kind of creepy petting something you can’t see,” added Rose knowingly.  
          “But maybe they’ll let you touch them once they get to know you,” said Albus encouragingly when he saw Lily’s downcast face. Lily brightened at that.  
          When all the meat had vanished, the group gradually turned to leave. They were still there, Albus assured them, but it was rather boring with nothing to look at. Albus lingered behind, his face indicting he could still see something of interest in the clearing. Holly moved up next to him.  
          “Thanks for standing down on the landing before Divination that first day,” she told him quietly. He shrugged an acknowledgement. “It must have been hard for you to be the first one to put away your wand,” Holly added.  
          “Well, we shouldn’t be fighting in the halls anyway,” he conceded a tacit admission that the yard fight had been a mistake.  
          “Mark figures that you maybe kept me from having another “flashback” by doing it,” added Holly cautiously. There was no surprise in Albus’ emotions, instead, there was a hint of satisfaction, confirmation of Mark’s suspicions. “How’d you know?” Holly asked him, “I didn’t even know!”  
          "You had kind of the same wide eyed look you had in the kitchen before you ran off,” admitted Albus. “Then I saw the wand sliding out… Dad said your flashbacks seemed to be related to places or experiences you had during the summer. I remembered what you said when you described the people you met in Hogwarts the first time and it occurred to me that you probably had a lot of experiences with angry Slytherins…”  
          “Um, not that many, actually,” admitted Holly, “but enough.”  
          “Did you, uh, see Headmaster Snape again?” questioned Albus tentatively.  
          “Yes,” confirmed Holly softly. She felt a surge of interest. Holly knew Albus had often been teased about being named after someone everyone still hated. Consequently, Albus liked to hear stories about his namesake, positive stories—stories his father could not tell. Only Albus came close to feeling about the Headmaster the way Holly did. Holly hesitated and looked about. Hagrid, James, Lawrence, Rose and Lily had gone on ahead. Mark, Becky and Taylor were standing to one side waiting. Albus would never ask, but of all people, he was one who would most appreciate hearing about the Headmaster.  
          “Do you want to hear about him?” she asked tentatively.  
          “Yeah,” he admitted frankly. “If you’re up to it.”  
          “I think I am. Do you have the time?”  
          “Uh, sure, Taylor?” he called out. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll catch up with you later.” Taylor nodded and started off.  
          “Wait here,” Holly told Albus. She hurried over to Mark and Becky. “I’m going to talk with Albus a bit,” she told them. “I’ll meet you at dinner.”  
          “You sure?” Becky asked worriedly. “You know you’re not supposed to be out alone—”  
          “I won’t be alone,” Holly reminded her. “Albus will be with me.”  
          “But—”  
          “Don’t worry,” Holly assured them. “I’ll make sure Albus stays with me the whole time…” Healer Winonan’s medical restriction was certainly a pain sometimes… So Becky and Mark walked on back towards the castle leaving Holly alone with Albus.  
       Holly took a deep breath. She looked over at the area where Albus said the thestrals were, the ones she knew must be there but couldn’t see, and then started speaking. “I wasn’t feeling very good when we met,” she began. “The dementors that guarded Hogwarts found me first, you see…”

 ********************

          Albus listened raptly to Holly’s tale of how the Headmaster outwitted Lord Voldemort and walked her to the trophy room right under his nose. “He knew!” exclaimed Holly sorrowfully about the Headmaster. “He knew exactly what would happen if he helped me and he did it anyway.”  
          “Wow!” said Albus both saddened and impressed. “Dad always said he was one of the bravest men he had ever met; I guess he was right.” By then it had gotten dark. Dinnertime. Both students turned and started walking towards the castle. “That kind of explains why you’d think of Pettigrew when things get tense, like on the train.”  
          “Yes,” admitted Holly and she went on to explain a bit of about the flashbacks she had been experiencing.  
          “That’s really rough,” said Albus sympathetically when he heard about Healer Winonan’s restrictions, “but necessary. Think what might have happened to you had you been able to get off the train that time!”  
          “I know,” sighed Holly. “But the escort stuff has gotten old really fast. Mark and Becky are my best friends,” she told him. “I did everything with them last year and thought nothing of it. Now they seem like prison guards! I mean I appreciate their support but this is the first time I’ve been without one of them since the train!”  
          “Well, just let me know if you ever think you need a break from them and we’ll help out,”  
          “Thanks.”  
          “So, how’d you get the invisible cloak?”  
          “Huh?” asked Holly disconcerted by the change in topic.  
          “The invisible cloak,” repeated Albus. “You should have seen James’ face when dad handed him the invisible cloak and apologized before we left for the train. Dad said he would explain later. We figured it had to come from you or he would’ve given it back sooner but how you got it was beyond us!”  
          So Holly told Albus about Mrs. Figg and the gift from Dumbledore. Albus was named after Dumbledore too. “He really was a great wizard,” Albus said proudly when he heard what Dumbledore had done.  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly. She suddenly froze.  
          “What? What is it?” asked Albus concerned. He looked around trying to see what was stopping Holly. “Is it the dementors?” he asked remembering Holly had mentioned dementors and wondering if she was having a flashback.  
          “No,” whispered Holly while staring straight ahead. “They don’t hurt and I don’t see them if I don’t look up,” she added absently.  
          “Then what is it?”  
          “It’s Pettigrew!”  
          “Pettigrew?” questioned Albus in disbelief. Holly mentioned Pettigrew had been on the third floor and in the Headmaster’s office. They were neither place now.  
          “Right there,” she pointed to a place a few meters ahead. “That’s where I figure he picked me up.”  
          “Picked you up?”  
          “Yes, after the dementors got me,” explained Holly. “Then he started dragging me to the Headmaster’s office.”  
          “So?”  
          Holly looked at Albus. “Pettigrew didn’t like the Headmaster,” she informed Albus, “and he told me all about it on the way up…” Albus looked at her confused waiting for a further explanation. Holly took a deep breath. “He’s still telling me,” she confessed softly. “every time I pass that point…”  
          “You mean you can still _hear_ him?”  
          Holly nodded. “Every despicable word,” she confirmed.  
          “Ewwww!” sympathized Albus. “Can’t you avoid it somehow?”  
          “Haven’t been able to yet,” she told him. “I suppose I could make a rather large detour around this part of the walkway,” she began, “but then the rest of the students would know there was something up with me and there’s still no way to avoid the entrance, the entryway and the stairs.”  
          Holly’s stomach rumbled and she sighed. “Come on,” she told Albus with resignation while taking a step forward. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in delaying it. Maybe he won’t talk to me this time…” But Holly didn’t believe that. “Don’t pay me any mind if I ignore you and start to mutter and growl,” she told Albus while continuing resolutely forward. “I really don’t like Pettigrew...”  
          Holly stiffened the moment his squeaky voice started. _“You just come along with me, Missy!...”_ She rolled her eyes up as she tried unsuccessfully to focus on anything but Pettigrew. At the same time she forced her legs to move forward. Albus’ hand caught Holly’s elbow and helped guide her. Ravindra had once told Holly to keep going forward as a way to avoid dementors. It hadn’t worked for Holly with the dementors, but by concentrating on every forward step Holly continued on through the entrance and past the stairs where the annoying voice abruptly ended.  
          Holly’s whole body relaxed and she stopped in relief. “Thanks,” she told Albus who was regarding her with worried eyes. “He’s stopped talking.” Albus nodded and released Holly’s elbow.  
          “You’ve been getting that all week?” he inquired curiously.  
          “Every day,” confirmed Holly. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now but it’s such a high squeaky voice it’s like chalk scratching on a blackboard.” Holly gave an involuntary shutter at the thought. “Let’s get to dinner,” she suggested changing the subject. “I’m hungry and Mark and Becky are probably quite worried by now.” Holly and Albus headed towards the Great Hall.  
          The Great Hall was filled with students all intent on finishing their meals. Some of the students glanced up casually at Holly and Albus’ arrival. Holly found Becky and Mark amongst the Hufflepuffs. She said “good-bye” to Albus and made her way swiftly to their side. She gave a last glance at Albus while Mark and Becky scooted over making way for her. Albus was walking over to his table. Suddenly he tripped and stumbled.  
          “Watch where you’re going,” shouted Tony Richards loudly while pushing Albus away from the Slytherin table.  
          Albus scrambled angrily to his feet, wand in hand… Then he happened to glance over at Holly. He straightened. “Sorry,” he muttered and continued to his table sitting down with Rose and Lily. The Slytherins sat back looking clearly disappointed at his refusal to fight.  
 _“I should tell Albus I’ve been blocking whenever Slytherins are around so he shouldn’t have to worry about me having that sort of “flashback,”_ thought Holly. _“Then again maybe not…”_ Holly wasn’t sure her blocking was good enough to protect her from a full-blown wizard fight in the Great Hall so perhaps it was safer to not risk it.


	19. Chapter 19

          Vernon Wycliff sat at a table in the Smeltings library turning the pages of a magazine. It wasn’t a magazine he was particularly interested in and he wasn’t reading, but it was something to do while he waited. His friend Kenny should have already been on campus but he wasn’t checked into a room and Vernon didn’t know where else to look for him.  
          Mum and dad had rented a taxi to take him to Smeltings. Dad said it was so they could spend more time with Vernon before school instead of focusing so much on the road, but they all knew the other reason they took a taxi—Vernon didn’t have to use a seat belt when riding a taxi.  
          Though they never specifically mentioned what had happened during the summer, Vernon knew dad was worried about him going to school. “You got everything you need?” he had asked numerous times along the way.  
          “Yes, sir,” assured Vernon. He knew that besides the regular clothes, paper and pens, dad also meant the several boxes of sugar-free gum acquired to replace the chips Vernon had quit eating, the supply of night light bulbs, flash lights, and an ear jack and wire so he could listen to the radio at night without disturbing the other students… Vernon also wore his brand new ring, which lit up reassuringly every time at any hour, night and day, as soon as he pressed the black spot on its side…  
          “You’ll write and let us know how things are going, right?” dad asked as they said their “good-byes.” Dad had never before requested a letter merely trusting that Vernon would be fine at Smeltings.  
           “Yes, sir,” replied Vernon dutifully. As if he would ever write anything serious about life at Smeltings to his parents. Vernon knew they cared, but he would never bother them with his troubles at school unless absolutely necessary.  
 _“Where had Kenny gotten off to?”_ wondered Vernon as he turned another page of the magazine. He longed to find a bag of chips to open and eat; sugar free gum just wasn’t as satisfying when there were other things on his mind…  
          “My, my, fancy meeting you here.”  
          Vernon froze at the sound. The voice was silky and oozed friendship but it belonged to no friend of his. He looked up at the owner of the voice, Montague! Montague was the school bully. They had been friends once, but dad got him to drop Montague after the association had nearly gotten Vernon suspended.  Montague had had it in for Vernon ever since.  
          “I saw the taxi drop you off,” said Montague conversationally. “What’s the matter, your auto get repossessed?”  
          “What are you doing here?” asked Vernon ignoring Montague’s question. “If you’re looking for Trevors and Pittman, I haven’t seen them. Try the gym.” Trevors and Pittman were Montague’s closest associates; they were usually inseparable.  
          Montague scowled. The frown marred his usually handsome face. “I already know where they are. Actually, I was looking for you.”  
          “Why?” asked Vernon suspiciously.  
          Montague didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze fell on the magazine and Vernon’s hand that turned the page. “That’s a nice ring,” he commented. Vernon instinctively covered his ring protectively with his other hand. “It looks out of your league,” Montague added derisively. “Did you steal it?”  
          “No,” replied Vernon tersely without providing further explanation.  
          “It looks familiar. Let me see it!” ordered Montague coldly.  
          “No,” repeated Vernon keeping his hand and ring firmly covered. He glanced around and was reassured to note the librarian at his station nearby. Montague preferred to do his bullying in private. “Go away,” Vernon told Montague and tipped his head down appearing to read but his eyes didn’t see the pictures on the page. His whole body waited anxiously to see what Montague would do next.  
           Montague leaned down over Vernon and placed his face next to Vernon’s ear. “Later,” he promised, “but I’ve a message for you now. If you’re waiting for Perkins, it’ll be a long wait.”  
          “Huh?” The response came out involuntarily. “What do you mean?”  
          “He’s not coming!” announced Montague while straightening. “Ever!”  
           Vernon head shot up to look at Montague unable to keep the shock and surprise out of his face.  
          Montague noted Vernon’s expression with satisfaction. “That’s why I was looking for you!” Montague added importantly. “He’s not coming to Smeltings this year,” he told Vernon with a smug smile. “Something to do with finances or medicine or something,” he added dismissively. “Whatever. He’s quit! I knew he wasn’t Smeltings material! He’s a quitter!” Montague leaned down to Vernon so they were eye to eye. “You should have picked your friends better,” he told Vernon. “What are you going to do now?”  
          Vernon looked down at his hands and the magazine refusing to answer.  
          But Montague didn’t seem to mind. “You know,” he added in a conversational voice. “It occurs to me that your dad was a quitter too! That’s why his name isn’t listed in any of the Smelting books! He _quit_ and they removed his name from the rolls!” Montague waited for a response from Vernon but there was none. Vernon knew why the Wycliff name wasn’t in the books but it wasn’t a reason he would explain to Montague.    
          “Where does that leave you?” Montague asked with false concern. “You select a looser quitter for a friend, and your dad’s a quitter!” Vernon clenched his hands tightly to keep from responding. “You don’t fit in here, Wycliff,” Montague told Vernon coldly. “Perhaps you should follow in the family tradition and _quit_ too!!!”  
          Without waiting for a response, Montague straightened and sauntered off. He grabbed a book off the shelf and walked over to the librarian to check it out. Montague spoke quietly with the librarian and then walked out of the library with his book. But Vernon neither saw nor heard any of that. He was busy staring blankly at the open page of his magazine trying to absorb the news Montague had brought.  
          Kenny was late, very late. Could he truly not be coming? Surely Vernon would have known… But then, neither Kenny nor Vernon was much for writing letters, texting or phoning. They hadn’t exchanged any messages over the summer nor had Vernon expected any.  
          What if Kenny wasn’t coming? What was Vernon going to do? Smeltings had been a great school while Vernon had been teamed up with Montague and Trevors. Sure, they were deceitful bullies, but that had never bothered Vernon any. Though Vernon would never admit it, he had seen nothing wrong in pushing others around a bit, and if he benefited from it, so much the better.  
          Unfortunately, the association had nearly gotten Vernon expelled and dad insisted Vernon find other friends. Vernon found Kenny. With Kenny’s help, Vernon’s scores had improved immensely without cheating. But Smeltings had become a dangerous place because Vernon found himself the focus of Montague’s bullying attention.  
          Kenny had also been one of Montague’s bullying targets. Together, Vernon and Kenny had been able to avoid most of Montague’s harassing activities. Kenny had made school bearable. Vernon would miss Kenny more than he wanted to admit.  
          Perhaps Vernon could find another friend but he doubted it… The other students were too afraid of Montague to associate with anyone openly opposed to Montague. Vernon had known it would be a difficult year after his experiences during the summer, he just hadn’t realized how difficult. For a moment, Vernon seriously considered Montague’s suggestion to quit but rapidly discarded it. He’d have to explain things to his parents. Vernon would just have to find a way to manage without Kenny.  
          “Mr. Wycliff?”  
          Startled, Vernon looked up. It was Mr. Ballytwirk, the Librarian. Vernon hadn’t even noticed he had come over. “Yes?” asked Vernon.  
          “The Headmaster wants to see you right away,” he told Vernon in a kindly voice. Mr. Ballytwirk was tall, thin and pale. He always wore a suit. His black hair was neatly slicked back and carefully kept out of his eyes. Vernon had gotten to know him very well over the last year. Mr. Ballytwirk was O.K., if you didn’t mind talking books.  
          “The Headmaster? Why?”  
          “He didn’t say,” replied the librarian with a frown “but it sounded serious.”  
          “O. K.,” said Vernon. He folded the magazine and stood up.  
          “I’ll take care of that for you,” Mr. Ballytwirk told him.  
          “Thanks,” Vernon told him. Vernon slid his chair back in place and walked to the door leaving the magazine on the table.

********************

          “The Headmaster will see you now, Mr. Wycliff,” the secretary told Vernon. “Just go on in.”  
          “Thank you,” said Vernon. He stepped apprehensively towards the imposing burnished oak door. The last time he had been here, Vernon had been informed his name had been cleared and he received an apology. Before that he had been threatened with expulsion. What on earth could the Headmaster want this time?  
          Vernon opened the door and stepped inside. Seated behind the massive mahogany desk was Headmaster Harold Q. Portermeyer. Vernon didn’t particularly like Headmaster Portermeyer. The elderly man with thinning blonde hair smiled a lot but the smiles never seemed genuine. He hadn’t believed Vernon when Vernon denied anything to do with the break-in two years ago. Even after two other boys had come forward confessing "guilt" to the incident the Headmaster continued to eye Vernon with suspicion and distrust. Montague called the Headmaster an “idiotic old fool who couldn’t tell the truth even if it jumped out and bit him!” That could explain why the Headmaster still considered Montague his star pupil and never acted on any reports or rumors to the contrary.  
          “Sit down,” said the Headmaster sternly looking up at Vernon’s arrival. There was no smile or warmth in his expression. Vernon saw two high-backed wooden chairs pulled up across from the Headmaster’s desk. He approached the nearest one and froze. Seated in the other high-backed chair was Montague! Montague regarded Vernon expressionlessly with his cold brown eyes. This was not good—not good at all!  
          “Sit down!” ordered the Headmaster again. Vernon warily took the empty chair next to Montague and sat down.  
          “Now,” began the Headmaster, “I expect you already know what this is about.”  
          “N-no, sir,” replied Vernon honestly.  
          The Headmaster frowned. “It is regards to a certain ring in your possession.”  
          “It’s mine,” Vernon asserted swiftly as his hand instinctively covered his ring possessively.  
          Headmaster Portermeyer sighed. “Before you say anything else,” he began instructively, “You should know that Mr. Montague has already told me how his dear Uncle Arthur died this summer and left him a silver ring with an oval blue star sapphire stone set in the center… He also related how he took off his ring while washing in the gym and neglected to put it back on afterwards. Mr. Montague has also told to me how, when he went to look for it afterwards, he found you wearing a ring that looked just like the one his uncle gave him and refused to return it…”  
          “I wouldn’t have said anything about it except I really loved my uncle and it has great sentimental value,” said Montague in a sincere tone, his eyes glistening.  
          “That’s perfectly all right,” said the Headmaster soothingly to Montague. “Of course you should have brought it to my attention, even if the ring had no sentimental value. We don’t tolerate theft of any kind here.”  
          “It’s mine!” repeated Vernon stubbornly.  
          “Mindful of previous accusations that since turned out to be false,” continued the Headmaster with a disapproving disbelieving glare at Vernon’s outburst. “I have also taken the time to double-check the facts before calling you here.” The Headmaster glanced down at his desk and pulled up some papers. “Mr., ah, Trevors,” he began while reading from the top page, “distinctly recalls Mr. Montague displaying his new silver ring with a blue stone proudly _yesterday_ while describing the circumstances of its acquisition…” Vernon sat numbly while listening to the report. “Mr. Pittman,” continued the Headmaster shifting to the second page, “remembers commenting to Montague during breakfast on how loosely his silver ring fit on his hand and suggesting he wear it on a larger finger…” Headmaster Portermeyer set those papers down and glanced at the remaining two in his hand. “I also have the statement of two younger boys who remember seeing you at the gym this morning,” he told Vernon. “Were you at the gym today?” he asked looking up from the papers.  
          “Yes,” admitted Vernon, “but not for long and it was right after lunch not in the morning.” He had been there looking for Kenny. Even to Vernon’s ear the correction sounded pretty lame. “It’s my ring,” reiterated Vernon stubbornly. “I got it at Chessington with my cousin!”  
          “You don’t have any cousins!” exclaimed Montague. “You told me so yourself!” For a moment, that veneer of humility and sorrow was replaced by a triumphant gleam in Montague’s eyes. Then he again looked sorrowful and concerned.  
          “Did you tell him that?” questioned the headmaster.  
          “Uh, yeah,” admitted Vernon looking down at the floor, “but that’s because I didn’t know I had any then…”  
          Montague gave a snort of disbelief.  
          The Headmaster frowned and looked disapprovingly at Vernon, no doubt certain Vernon had just told another lie. He sighed. “Look,” he said patiently. “We all know how it is when you find something that looks abandoned. Finders/keepers and all. You should have turned the ring over to Lost and Found but you didn’t. We all make mistakes. There is still time to do the right thing…”  
          It was an out. The Headmaster was offering Vernon a way out. All Vernon had to do was admit he found the ring, say he hadn’t meant to keep it and all would be forgiven. But that would mean giving up the ring and Vernon wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t—  
          Vernon took a deep breath, “I don’t know about any ring in the showers,” he began slowly keeping his voice steady and his eyes glued to the Headmaster, “but this ring is mine and I got it in Chessington with my cousin. Mum and dad know about the ring,” he added desperately. “They’ve seen it. You can call and ask them.” Not that he would. Headmaster Portermeyer preferred to manage things in-house without involving parents. Probation and possible expulsion had only required a parental signature two years ago.  
          “My parents know about my ring,” stated Montague piously. “They were there when I received it.” All of that was a lie since it wasn’t his ring but Vernon had no doubt Montague’s parents would back any story Montague chose to tell—Montague had boasted they had done so often enough in the past.  
          Headmaster Portermeyer looked from Vernon to Montague and then back at Vernon. He sighed. “Very well, then,” he said with disgust. “You leave me no choice. Give me the ring,” he told Vernon calmly while holding out his hand.  
          “No!” said Vernon faintly drawing back instinctively and keeping his ring covered.  
          “I think it best I hold onto the ring until all this gets sorted out,” the Headmaster explained patiently. “Give me the ring now,” he ordered, “or I shall be forced to call the authorities and have them take it from you.”  
          Vernon gulped. If he gave up the ring he would most likely never see it again. But the same would be true once the authorities were called. Perhaps he could get Albus to make him another one… It would be worse if the authorities were called, Vernon reflected. Vernon could feel Montague gloating in silent triumph as he slipped the ring from his finger.  
          “Please, sir,” Vernon pleaded while he reluctantly placed it in the Headmaster’s outstretched hand. “It’s mine—Truly it is!” The ring hadn’t been removed since he had gotten it from Cousin Harry a week earlier. Already Vernon’s finger felt naked without it.  
          Headmaster Portermeyer’s fingers closed into a fist over Vernon’s ring. He brought the ring closer and examined the item in dispute turning it over slowly. “This ring matches the description Mr. Montague gave me,” he told Vernon.  
          “He saw it on me in the library,” Vernon countered.  
          “With Mr. Trevors and Mr. Pittman?”  
          “No, sir,” Vernon admitted, “they weren’t there.”  
          “So you are, in effect, asking me to believe that there are two such rings in existence or five good students have deliberately given false testimony. Is that correct?”  
          “No, sir,” argued Vernon miserably. Both suggestions sounded totally improbable even to his ear. “I just know it is my ring.” Vernon was certain he would never get his ring back.  
          “Well,” sighed Headmaster Portermeyer, “I shall have to contact both your parents and see what they have to say… Wait a minute—is that an inscription?”  
          Vernon looked up hopefully.  
          “Did you deface my ring?” Montague accused swiftly while Headmaster Portermeyer pulled out a magnifying glass. The Headmaster frowned while he peered at the interior of the ring closer. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” he questioned.  
          “I, uh, forgot…” confessed Vernon. The inscription had been Albus’ idea and Vernon hadn’t even given it a glance when it had been completed.  
          The Headmaster looked up from the ring to the two boys. He stood up and reached over the desk, ring in hand. “Here,” he told Vernon while handing him the ring. “I believe this is yours.”  
          Vernon stared at the ring in disbelief. He took the ring back into his hand closing over it tightly with relief. “Thank you, sir,” he told the Headmaster while slipping the ring back on his finger.  
          “But it’s my ring!” protested Montague.  
          “Inscribed with the name _V. Wycliff_?” argued the Headmaster. “I think not!”  
          “He must have gotten it inscribed after he found it!” argued Montague insistently.  
          “Today is Sunday,” the Headmaster reminded Montague sternly. “The jewelry stores are closed. In addition, Mr. Ballytwirk informed me that Mr. Wycliff spent most of the afternoon in the library reading and thus took no time to look for a jeweler to do inscriptions… You may go now,” he added dismissing Vernon.    
          “Yes, sir,” said Vernon standing stiffly. Without another word Vernon turned and left the room closing the huge door behind him.

********************

          Vernon left the Headmaster’s office in a daze. He still couldn’t believe he had gotten his ring back. It was only later that Vernon realized he had made a mistake—a big mistake. He should have just given Montague the ring. If Vernon had begged and groveled, Montague might have returned it with a superior infuriatingly smug smirk. Instead, Montague had been embarrassed and Montague would never forgive nor forget. Already he was probably planning some sort of revenge against Vernon. School officials could never protect Vernon from Montague even if they believed Vernon was in danger from him. Quitting began to look better and better but Vernon hated to give Montague that kind of satisfaction.  
          Vernon checked the time while he pondered how best to avoid Montague during the coming year. The library was closed. But the cafeteria was open. So Vernon headed there.  
          It was already filled with students eating and conversing. Grabbing a tray, Vernon selected some food and sat down to eat. The other students watched him warily. While no one physically left the table when Vernon sat, no one spoke to him either.   Montague had made it clear last year that Vernon was off limits and no doubt they all remembered.  
          Vernon studied the other students while he ate. Were any of them potential friends? He doubted it. They all had their groups and/or were too afraid of incurring Montague’s displeasure. Perhaps there were some new transfers that Vernon could approach someone not yet so terrified of Montague … But apart from the first years, Vernon did not see any unfamiliar faces. Of course, not everyone ate in the cafeteria or at the same time. Perhaps Vernon would find someone in one of his classes later...  
          Vernon finished his meal in silence, cleaned up and headed for his room. Vernon reached his room and grasped the doorknob when he realized the door was shut but not completely closed! Vernon froze. He was sure he had closed and locked the door when he had left earlier. Cautiously he pushed the door open. Montague sat comfortably in the chair at Vernon’s desk! Instinctively Vernon turned to leave but somehow behind him stood Trevors and Pittman with very nasty smiles on their faces. How had they gotten there so fast? Vernon could have sworn the hall was empty while he had walked down it.  
          Pittman and Trevors each grabbed one of Vernon’s arms high near the armpit and pivoted Vernon so he again faced Montague. There was no point in struggling or trying one of those fancy moves Holly had been teaching him; there was no space and Vernon was outnumbered. “What are you doing here?” Vernon asked, his heart racing wildly.  
          “Waiting for you, of course,” replied Montague smoothly. “Come in,” he invited gesturing with a hand. Pittman and Trevors walked Vernon into the room and closed the door behind them. “What’s with all the flashlights and batteries?” questioned Montague. Looking around, Vernon could tell the things in his room had been shifted about, the unmistakable signs of a search.  
          “Why are you here?” asked Vernon apprehensively while avoiding the question.  
          “No need to be so fearful,” said Montague soothingly. “I’m here to apologize.” He gestured with his hand to a single envelope lying on the desk. “It’s the honorable thing to do,” Montague added sarcastically. “I should have realized you might be tasteless enough to purchase a ring “identical” to mine. Hero worship and all,” he added explaining. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. In the future, I shall take your word more seriously…”  
          “O.K., you’ve apologized,” said Vernon. “Now you can leave.”  
          “Not so fast,” said Montague giving no indication of wanting to leave. “I’d like to take a closer look at that ring of yours…” With a gesture Pittman dragged up Vernon’s now struggling arm and forced him to hold out his tightly clenched fist.  
          Montague rose leisurely and gave Vernon’s fist with its ring a closer inspection.  
          “You’d better not hurt me or take my ring,” Vernon warned.  
          “Oh? And why would that be?”  
          “Because it’s too soon,” Vernon reminded him. “Even an “idiotic old fool who couldn’t tell the truth if it jumped out and bit him” might connect what happened earlier with now; he might even figure out there was no second ring and what you really were trying to do!” It was clear to Vernon that Montague had spun some sort of story of a second ring to avoid punishment.  
           Montague scowled, the frown marring his handsome features. Then the expression cleared. “Unfortunately,” he said dismissively, “you have a point.” Montague took a step back surveying Vernon’s room. “However, memories fade,” he assured Vernon. “But that is no excuse to keep such an untidy room!” Taking his knobbly stick he swept it out over Vernon’s desk missing the envelope and knocking the lamp off. It landed on the floor with a loud “crash.” Vernon started with the noise, but found himself unable to move, being held tightly in place by Pittman and Trevors. Then Montague methodically opened each drawer of the desk and dumped the contents and then the drawer out onto the floor. Vernon could only watch helplessly as Montague did the same with the chest drawers. Bedding and pillows landed on the pile next. Then Montague proceeded to pull all Vernon’s clothes out of the closet and toss them on top of the pile. Finally, Montague lifted Vernon’s travel trunk, opened it and dumped the contents onto the pile. Vernon’s laptop and several school texts, stored in the trunk, tumbled out onto the tangled pile of clothes and bedding. Montague tossed the trunk to one side. Using his knobbly stick Montague whacked the trunk viciously several times causing the hinges to come undone and smashing the lid into splinters.  
          His brown eyes aglow, his immaculate brown hair askew and heaving from the exertions Montague again returned his attention to Vernon. “You are a slob!” he announced. Both Trevors and Pittman laughed in agreement. “Get this cleaned up before I put you on report! Room inspection is at 7:00 a.m. sharp!” Montague moved in even closer placing his face in Vernon’s, his mouth to Vernon’s ear. “You got me put on report!” he hissed angrily. “This isn’t over!” With that, Montague stepped past Vernon, opened the door and stalked out of the room. Pittman and Trevors released Vernon and shoved him onto the pile of things and followed Montague loudly shutting the door behind them.

 ********************

           Vernon gingerly pulled himself off the pile. He swiftly picked up his laptop computer and turned it on. Still working. Good. Vernon set the computer carefully on the desk. All thing considered, Vernon counted himself rather lucky to get off as easily as he did. Despite the threat, Vernon hoped this bit of vandalism would soothe Montague’s ego sufficiently so he would leave Vernon alone if Vernon didn’t push things. After all it was only a “report;” Montague hadn’t been suspended or anything.  
           Despite the horrendous mess, the only real damage was to the lamp and the trunk. The trunk and the light bulb would have to be replaced. The rest just needed to be picked up and returned to their proper places. That was one thing about Montague. He always seemed to know how far to go or not go. Montague knew Vernon would not complain and there wasn’t enough physical damage to cause others to take notice and question Vernon about what had happened.  
           _“Good thing I don’t have other plans for the night,”_ Vernon reflected philosophically as he picked up a stack of books and placed them on the desk. Then he lifted some hangers with clothing still on them. Vernon straightened out the clothing and put them and the hangers back in the closet. He returned to the pile for a second armful. Vernon had no doubt he would be up most the night trying to put things right but he would probably finish before morning inspection.

********************

          “What tornado blew in here?”  
          Vernon’s head shot up in surprise and shock! “Kenny!” he exclaimed with undisguised relief and delight. “You’re here!”  
          “Well, yeah,” said Kenny Perkins dryly. “I go to school here, remember?”  
          “But Montague said you’d quit!” Kenny’s warm brown eyes, tan skin and familiar face had never been a more welcome sight to Vernon.  
          “And you believed him?”  
          “I didn’t want to,” confessed Vernon, “but he was so certain and it was late and the trains weren’t running any more nor the buses…”  
          “I missed them,” said Kenny stating the obvious. “I took a taxi,” he informed Vernon. “My flight was delayed and I knew I was getting in late,” Kenny continued. “I contacted the office and asked them to tell you to pick up my schedule and key because I’d be arriving long after the main desk closed… but I don’t expect you got the message…” Kenny’s voice died away. “Let me guess,” he added. “I bet the office asked Montague to deliver it…”  
          “Or he volunteered,” agreed Vernon while refolding a shirt. “At least he was the only person who talked to me about you. Montague probably thought it a fine “joke” on both of us.”  
          “No doubt,” agreed Kenny, “but unfortunately, now I’m left without a key for my room. I don’t suppose you have extra crash space for the night…”  
          “I do,” said Vernon lightly, “but my place is kind of messy right now.”  
          “So I noticed,” acknowledged Kenny while bending down to pick up a drawer, “but we can fix that soon enough.” He returned the drawer to the chest and bent down to pick up another one. Vernon filled the drawer with some socks and underwear.  
          “Uh, I’m not sure you want to hang out with me this year,” began Vernon hesitantly while they worked. Though Kenny hadn’t asked, Vernon knew he was curious about the mess and he deserved an explanation.  
          “Oh?” Kenny separated the sheets from the rest of the pile and started remaking Vernon’s bed.  
          “Montague is mad at me,” Vernon admitted and he went on to tell Kenny what had happened with his ring.  
          When Vernon had finished, Kenny merely shrugged. “Montague is always mad at you,” he told Vernon. “At least this time he actually has a reason of sorts—not like that hand incident last year.” He was referring to the time Montague had shown up with purple ink stains all over his hands. Afterwards, Montague had constantly scowled venomously whenever he looked at Vernon.  
          “Yeah, about that purple hand,” began Vernon hesitantly, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…”  
          “Did you do it?” questioned Kenny quickly.  
          “No, of course not!” exclaimed Vernon. Holly had.  
          “Then let’s leave it at that. The walls are rather thin, you know.”  
          “So they are,” agreed Vernon. Though he doubted anyone would have “heard” or come running had he cried for help, information to sell was another matter.

******************************

          “What do you want to do with this?” questioned Kenny. He held up the unopened envelope containing Montague’s apology. It had lain on the desk untouched. Once the boys had finished picking up the rest of the room, the envelope marred the desk’s neat inspection-ready appearance.  
          “Toss it,” replied Vernon with a shrug. No apology, even in writing, was sincere if it came from Montague.  
          “No, you should keep it,” advised Kenny handing the letter to Vernon. “Put it some place safe; it’s proof that Montague made a mistake. You might need that some day.”  
          “O.K.,” said Vernon uncertainly. He looked thoughtfully around the room. Where could he hide it? _“Nowhere,”_ he finally decided. Montague had already proven he could and would enter and search the room. “I’ll send it to Holly in the morning,” he told Kenny. “She’ll keep it safe.” Kenny nodded in approval.  
          “Shall we get some sleep?” suggested Vernon.  
          “Fine by me,” agreed Kenny and he retreated to the corner the two had fixed up as his bed.  
          “Ready?” asked Vernon, his hand on the main switch.  
          “Ready,” replied Kenny and Vernon turned off the main lights.  
          All that remained was the soft glow of the night-light. Though Kenny surely knew Vernon had never slept with one before, he easily accepted Vernon’s suggestion they install a nightlight as a way to insure no one would accidently step on each other in the middle of the night. Nor did Kenny say anything when Vernon slipped the earpiece in and turned on the Ipod before lying down. Kenny was not one to ask a lot of questions. Vernon liked that about him. Vernon stretched out on his bed and went to sleep thinking that maybe the school year wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	20. Chapter 20

          “What should I do with this?” Holly asked no one in general at breakfast one morning. She was holding a sealed envelope that she had received from Vernon.  
          “What does he say to do?” asked Becky. Wordlessly, Holly handed her Vernon’s letter. It didn’t say much only that he hoped school was going well for her and to take care of the letter promising to explain later.  
          “Put the letter in a safe place,” advised Mark reading over Becky’s shoulder.  
          “Why would he send me something like this?”  
          “Obviously he doesn’t think his place is safe enough for it,” replied Ben.  
          “Maybe I should open the letter…”  
          “If he had wanted you to read it he would have opened it for you,” said 5th year Eddie Shunpike. It was common for the Hufflepuffs to discuss each other’s problems and share advice at mealtimes or any other gathering.  
          “But I’m worried,” exclaimed Holly. “It’s such a weird thing to be sending me… Perhaps he’s in trouble…”  
          “Did he say so?” asked Gwen curiously. She hadn’t seen the letter yet.  
          “No, but—”  
          “He’s a Muggle, right?” interrupted Clayton Eggleton a husky 6th Year Hufflepuff student.  
          “Yes—”  
          “Well, Muggles have been handling their own problems for years without our help. I don’t think your brother would take too kindly if you butted in when you weren’t needed. Just put the envelope someplace safe and wait for him to explain later. Don’t worry,” Clayton assured her, “he’s been at that school for four years now, I’m sure he can take care of himself.”  
          “I suppose,” said Holly unconvinced. But she was still worried. The others didn’t know Vernon or what had happened that summer... Was that experience affecting him at school? Holly collected the sealed envelope and Vernon’s letter and stowed them both in her bag. She sighed. There wasn’t much she could do for him while she was at school anyway, at least not without more information. Holly decided she’d write a response, ask if everything was “O.K.,” and then see what happened.  
          Holly’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a loud _“crash!”_ “Albus?” she asked without bothering to look up.  
          “Yep,” replied Mark. “All over the floor.” Holly wasn’t surprised. Albus had tripped or stumbled at least once nearly every day, sometimes more, somewhere, always within close proximity of the Slytherins—though not the same ones. A second, louder crash sounded. Holly winced in sympathy. “Three Slytherins just fell over him,” Mark reported impartially. “And they’re leaning on Albus to get up.” The Slytherin emotions towards Albus had changed during the week from anger to eager anticipation and annoyance, which was daily rewarded by some sort of “show” put on by Albus. Even when nothing had happened, the Slytherins would openly jeer and tease Albus calling him a “clumsy nutter.”  
          Unable to find the source of his “clumsiness,” Albus had become smoldering mass of frustration and anger. Most of the time he kept it tightly bottled up but Holly had heard of occasions, never when she was near, when the feelings erupted into action and usually resulted in lost House points for Gryffindor. That would get all the Gryffindors riled up both at Albus and at the Slytherins. Holly knew other scuffles had occurred as James and Rose dealt with comments they received about being related to Albus. Lily looked positively miserable every time Holly saw her.  
          “There sure is a hex or something on him,” muttered Mark. “Too bad they can’t figure out what or how and stop it.” Holly nodded in agreement. This year the school seemed to seethe with emotions. Holly knew it was safer for her to block continuously, but she had been scanning the other students, especially the Slytherins, at every opportunity. So far, she had been unable to find any hint of deception or guilt among them.  
          “What’s on the agenda for today?” questioned Becky brightly changing the subject.  
          “We still have the flobberworms to clean,” began Mark.  
          “Ewww!” instantly exclaimed both Holly and Becky with a shutter.  
          “Let’s do that tonight when we have a chance to shower afterwards…” suggested Holly and Becky nodded in agreement. Even plastic gloves hadn’t prevented the slime from getting everywhere the last time they tried cleaning the worms. Professor Hagrid still hadn’t told anyone what they were for. He just kept on smiling happily at their questions and then told the class to start raising bloodworms as well…  
          “Want to try for the Room of Requirement again?” asked Mark.  
          “No,” Holly said shivering involuntarily. The prospect of listening to Pettigrew so early in the morning was distinctly unappetizing. They had tried several times during the week at different hours of the day to get into the Room of Requirement but with no luck. In addition, the trio was nearly caught by Prefect Richards four times while on the way to or from the Room. He seemed to constantly prowl the seventh floor. Holly didn’t feel up to dodging him plus Pettigrew.  
          “Trips to Hogsmeade don’t begin until next weekend,” observed Mark, “and quidditch practice is this afternoon…”  
          “How about we see if Professor Slughorn is in his class and we work on some extra potions?”  
          “No!” said Holly quickly.  
          “Why?” asked Becky with a raised eyebrow.  
          Holly looked down. “I heard Mrs. Figg is cleaning the dungeons today,” she mumbled.  
          “Oh.”  
          Holly had yet to see Mrs. Figg, but she had a nasty surprise when she first caught sight of her cats walking casually down the hall.  
 _“The tortoise shell is Poopsey,”_ Holly heard Mrs. Figg’s voice in her head as Poopsey sauntered towards her. Behind Poopsey Holly recognized Boots, a sleek black cat with white paws. Boots had jumped out at Polkiss surprising him and keeping Holly safe from Security that first night. Holly would never forget Boots! Lost in her memories, Holly knelt beckoning all the cats to come closer. _“The orange one on your lap is Tiger,”_ continued Mrs. Figg’s voice. _“And the one in your arms is Prince.”_ Holly stroked all the cats in her arms lovingly.  
          “Where’s Snowball?” Holly suddenly asked the Mrs. Figg she saw sitting in front of her. Mrs. Figg had her hair done up in small sausage sized curlers which were and covered with a hairnet and a faded patched scarf tied in a knot at her throat.  
 _“Snowball’s dead,” said Mrs. Figg flatly_. And an elegant all white longhaired cat with deep blue eyes strolled through the image of Mrs. Figg! Snowball wasn’t dead at all!  
          “Snowball!” exclaimed Holly. “You’re alive!” Holly’s surprise at the cat’s presence interrupted the memories she had been having and abruptly brought her back to the present. Snowball was usually a bit standoffish but she stood still for Holly’s enthusiastic attention.  
          When Holly next looked around she discovered she was kneeling on the floor with the four cats in the middle of a busy corridor. Mark and Becky quietly stood protectively on either side guarding Holly’s unattended bag and watching Holly anxiously while the other students walked hurriedly around her with expressions of annoyance on their faces.  
          “It’s over,” Holly announced self-consciously while getting slowly to her feet. Becky and Mark nodded clearly relieved. There was no need to explain further. Holly bent down and grabbed her bag. She gave one last lingering loving look at the cats who had done so much for her and at the cat who might not have been before following her friends to class. Holly was afraid of what would happen once she ran into Mrs. Figg.  
          “I still say we should look up Mrs. Figg,” said Mark after he finished his glass of juice. “You know something’s bound to happen,” he told Holly. “Meet her and get it over with. How bad can it be?”  
          “No!” repeated Holly shivering. “I can’t; I just can’t—not today,” she ended lamely.  
          “When?” persisted Mark. “Better you choose a time and place when it can be in private instead of accidently running into her in a hall somewhere.” But Holly stubbornly shook her head. Mark shrugged. Holly could feel his disappointment. “I think Gwen is doing some more wand practice in the yard today,” he finally said. “Shall we help with that?”  
          “O.K.,” agreed Holly, “and we can watch the quidditch practice this afternoon.” So when the three finished their food they gathered their things and went out into the yard.

*******************

          “Holly? Can I speak with you a moment?”  
          Holly and her friends had just left the castle and were on their way to watch the quidditch practice. Holly froze at the sound of the familiar voice coming from behind her. “I’m busy,” said Holly curtly without looking at the owner of the voice. She resumed her step and increased her speed forcing Mark and Becky to hurry to keep up with her.  
          “You’re going to the quidditch practice?” came the voice. “Great! I’ll come with you and we can talk there!”  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly keeping her eyes glued straight ahead. “We have nothing to talk about!”  
          “It’s about that letter you sent me…”  
          “That was a mistake—forget about it!” Holly abruptly stopped and wheeled around while keeping her eyes glued to the ground. “I’m not going to the practice,” she announced suddenly and began walking back to the castle. “I’ve got some flobberworms to clean!”  
          “You’d brave the stairs rather than talk with me?”  
          That caused Holly to pause. “You know?” she asked still keeping her face fixed on the ground. She could see a pair of shoes in front of her—shoes that belonged to the voice.  
          “I don’t know why,” continued the voice, “but the faces you make while going up the stairs are quite painful to watch.”  
          “I don’t want to talk with you,” admitted Holly. “I just can’t—” She broke off unable to put her feelings into words.  
          “Would it help if I told you I already know what happened this summer and the thing your brother found?”  
          “You do?” involuntarily Holly’s eyes flew up as she spoke and without meaning to she looked into the warm brown eyes of the owner of the voice, Ravindra. Immediately the bright beads attached to the Ravindra’s familiar cornrow braids seemed to multiply and though some remained still, others began to sway from side to side. Suddenly there were two Ravindras superimposed over each other standing in front of Holly and one of the faces was filled with agony as it whirled in place just as Holly had seen Ravindra do over and over again in the security poster—the one that showed Ravindra standing amongst her murdered family!  
          Holly bolted. She ran blindly down the path away from Ravindra.  
          “Holly, stop!” cried Becky. But Holly kept running.

********************

          James Potter was walking up to the castle. He had been helping Hagrid with a special project and was looking forward to a shower and some relaxation before dinner. Suddenly he heard someone cry out Holly’s name. Looking up he saw Holly running straight at him with Becky and Mark close behind. Holly veered as she neared but it was an easy matter to step in front blocking her way. He wrapped his arms around Holly to stop her forward motion.  
          “Let go of me!” Holly cried pounding on James’ chest. “I’ve got to go!”  
          But James hung on. “Where?” he asked tightening his hold so she could no longer pound on his chest. “What’s wrong?”  
          Becky ran up and drew to a stop near them. “Calm down! Holly, please!” entreated Becky.  
          “It’s all right, Holly,” reassured Mark stopping next to Becky. “You’re just having a flashback!” he panted.  
          Flashback!!! James looked down at Holly in surprise. Was this a flashback? Yes, she did look a bit like she had when she left their kitchen at Grimmauld Place. But what on earth would cause her to behave like that here?  
          “Holly,” came a third voice. “We’ve got to talk.” James looked at the source with surprise. He saw Ravindra Vasari, one of the Ravenclaw Prefects run up. Her colorful beads decorating her cornrow braids swung back and forth as she moved and her brown eyes and face were filled with concern. Ravindra was O.K., for a Ravenclaw. She had gotten him out of a sticky moment once but she wasn’t family.  
          “We’ll take care of this,” he quietly told Ravindra hinting she should leave.  
          “No,” replied Ravindra firmly while coming to a stop behind Holly. _“I’m_ the flashback!”  
          James stared at her in disbelief. He knew Holly had seen Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Headmaster Snape, but they were _dead!_   It never occurred to James that Holly might have met someone who still lived! Was it really possible? He looked from Becky and Mark for confirmation; neither seemed surprised by Ravindra’s statement. Holly must have met Ravindra that summer! What differences would there be in that Ravindra from the Ravindra he knew?  
          “Holly,” Ravindra began, “I know you don’t want to, but we have to talk—in private.”  
          “We can’t leave her,” insisted Mark staunchly.  
          “Of course you can,” retorted Ravindra. “Holly came in with Albus last Thursday and you were nowhere around!”  
          James stared at Ravindra again. She had obviously been watching Holly! To what end?  
          “It’s a medical thing, right?” continued Ravindra questioning Mark. “Holly’s already been over to the infirmary a couple times. I bet Healer Winonan said she couldn’t be left alone, didn’t he?   Well, I’ll stay with Holly as long as necessary.” When no one spoke or moved Ravindra looked up at James. “I’m a prefect,” she reminded him. “Surely my word is good for something?”  
          James looked down at Holly. She was no longer struggling, just sobbing quietly. “Uh Holly?” he asked releasing her. The final decision was Holly’s after all. Holly sank to her knees and hunched over with her arms hiding her face.  
          “I don’t wa—,” she began haltingly. “I can’t lo—” she tried again without success.  
          “You can’t look at me,” said Ravindra finishing Holly’s sentence. “Is that right? I see it now,” Ravindra added. “You’ve been keeping your head down, avoiding all of the Ravenclaws for fear you’d see me amongst them, haven’t you?” Had she? James hadn’t noticed. He had been too busy worrying about Albus to note what Holly had been doing in school. “Well, I’ll stay behind you like I am now so you don’t have to worry about that,” continued Ravindra reassuringly. “O.K.? We don’t have to _see_ each other just to talk,” she reminded Holly. Ravindra reached out her tan hand and placed it reassuringly on Holly’s shoulder. Holly immediately flinched. Ravindra lifted her hand quickly. “And I won’t try to touch you unless you want me to,” she added looking at her hand in bewilderment.  
          James knelt down by Holly. “You don’t have to,” he told her holding Holly again in his arms, noting with relief how Holly didn’t flinch with his touch.  
         Holly sniffed and gulped. “I know,” she agreed softly rubbing the tears off her face, “but I should.” Holly looked up at James, her tear-streaked eyes seeing him for the first time. “You can all go,” she told him in a voice loud enough for Becky and Mark to hear as well. “I’ll be safe with Ravindra.”  
         James studied Holly a moment. She seemed sincere so he nodded. He stood up reluctantly and stepped away from Holly. “Come on,” he told Mark and Becky. Then James started up the path towards the castle. He could hear Becky and Mark following. James cast one final worried glance at Holly as he walked and saw Ravindra sitting down directly behind her out of Holly’s line of sight.

********************

          Ravindra sat quietly on the ground behind Holly Wycliff. It seemed like forever, but was probably only a minute or two. Holly couldn’t sense Ravindra’s emotions at all; she was very good at Occlumency but Holly knew Ravindra was there because she could hear her breathing and an occasional clink of her beaded hair.  
          “Lets go watch the Thestrals,” suggested Ravindra. Holly nodded wordlessly. It seemed appropriate to watch the animals that couldn’t be seen when discussing events that couldn’t have happened. Holly slowly got to her feet and could hear Ravindra doing the same behind her. “You lead the way,” Ravindra told Holly—a plausible explanation for why they weren’t walking side by side. Holly took a shaky step forward and then another and another finally managing a steady plod down the path towards Hagrid’s hut and the woods beyond.  
          It wasn’t until after they passed Hagrid’s hut that Ravindra spoke again. “I hear Professor Lovegood has started the students at dueling practice again,” she said conversationally. “Did you wonder why she hasn’t asked you to begin too?”  
          Holly shrugged. “I’m not safe with a wand,” she replied dully. She hadn’t really given it much thought.  
          “That excuse may work around the third years,” replied Ravindra, “but not for us!” “Us” meant the Auror students. Holly had dueled regularly against them last spring. “If we can’t deal with the occasional stray spell we don’t belong in class!” Auror class was probably also the reason why Ravindra wanted to speak with Holly in private. The identities of the Auror students were kept secret and never discussed. James, Mark and Becky didn’t know Ravindra was more than a casual acquaintance of Holly’s. “I asked her to hold off until I had a chance to talk with you,” continued Ravindra. “I knew something wasn’t right when I saw the way you were avoiding the Ravenclaws and I guessed it had to do with what happened during the summer...”  
          “How—How did you know?” Holly asked hesitantly venturing a question of her own.  
          “I was at the hospital when Mr. Weasley brought you in,” came the reply. “Medical observation for class,” she explained. “You looked real bad; it was odd that it was Mr. Weasley who brought you in and not Mr. Potter. Then Healer Winonan put the whole Muggle ward in quarantine and it occurred to me that you weren’t the only one injured. I wondered if Mr. Potter would be bringing in a second injured person, one who was Muggle. Muggles are only brought in when the injury is magically related.” The two continued walking several steps before Ravindra continued. “When your letter came,” she began, “I was fairly certain what had happened. Your brother has green eyes, doesn’t he?”  
           “Yes,” admitted Holly softly. The two came to the clearing where Hagrid fed the Thestrals. It looked empty as usual. Holly found a log to sit on and stared out into the clearing. She heard Ravindra sitting in the leaves behind her.  
          Presently Ravindra asked, “Did you know they showed us what was left of the plaque Albus found in the trophy room during class one day?” Holly shook her head. “They told us what it was and how it trapped Albus,” continued Ravindra. “I’d never seen a real cursed object before,” she added. “They said the plaque trapped you too and that together you and Albus managed to break the curse. They didn’t give us any of the details though—said they were unimportant as the curse had failed. But I always wondered what kind of curse would benefit Tom Riddle most…” Ravindra’s voice trailed off. Holly watched a leaf from one of the trees flutter gently to the ground in the silence that followed. Then Ravindra asked quietly, “Did Albus see Harry Potter die that night in the trophy room?”  
          “Yes,” whispered Holly hugging her knees.  
          “Well, that explains why Albus can see Thestrals now,” Ravindra observed calmly.  
          Holly nodded adding, “It’s hard to explain the death of someone who isn’t dead.”  
          “Yes, it would be,” agreed Ravindra. “How far back did the curse reverse time?” she asked curiously.  
          “Back to Cousin Harry’s second year at Hogwarts.”  
          “His second year? But that was over twenty years ago!” Ravindra was clearly impressed by the strength of the spell. Then she fell silent. Another leaf dropped and drifted silently to the ground. “Twenty years to remake the world without Harry Potter and what he did,” she mused quietly. “That’s a scary thought. You touched the plaque after Albus. That means you must have spent time in the remade world before breaking the spell.  
          Holly nodded wordlessly.  
          “No wonder you had nightmares afterwards!” said Ravindra sympathetically. “And then this summer, your brother went and found another plaque putting you again in the remade world… Why only you?” Ravindra asked curiously.  
          “Dumbledore protected my dad’s family because they were watching Cousin Harry,” whispered Holly. “And his spell was in place before Tom Riddle’s curse.”  
          “Oh. And where was I in this remade world?” Holly didn’t answer but buried her head deeper in her lap.  
          “I know we must have met and I lent you some money; that’s what the letter was about. It can’t be all bad can it?” Holly shook her head. A low moan escaped her lips and she began to rock back and forth on the log.  
          “Oh, Holly!” came Ravindra’s sympathetic voice. And without warning Ravindra’s arms slipped around Holly in a warm hug. This time, instead of flinching, Holly reached blindly out and hugged back sobbing loudly. When the tears subsided Holly kept her eyes tightly closed and whispered, “I didn’t know you were Muggle born…”  
          “So?”  
         “Mu—mudbloods were hunted by Security and terrible things happened to them!”

********************

          Bit by bit Ravindra drew the story out of Holly: the Gloom and the gray ghosts only Ravindra could see, the Muggle mark, the loneliness and the family that had been murdered. By the time Holly had finished she was leaning up against Ravindra, still not looking at her, but much more relaxed.  
          “What did you see when you looked at me a while ago?” Ravindra asked gently. She was idly picking up and dropping dry leaves while she talked.  
          Holly shuttered at the memory. “I see your Security Alert Photo,” she finally said. “Your beads swinging back and forth as you looked around at your dead family.”  
          “Did you feel anything?”  
          “Of course not,” Holly replied instantly. “It’s a wizard photo. But I saw it a lot outside Diagon Alley. And every time I saw it, I got all cold and empty inside like you were the last time I saw you. It was horrible! I’m sure you were going to end it all after I left!”  
          “And now?”  
          Holly was silent a moment staring at the empty clearing searching her feelings as she phrased her words. “You’re here but not here,” she finally said. “Like the photo and I still feel cold and empty inside, though I know you probably won’t end it all…”  
          The two sat in silence as Holly heard Ravindra drop another handful of leaves onto the ground. Then Ravindra suddenly sat up more causing Holly to shift positions. “Of course!” Ravindra exclaimed. “What do you feel now?”  
          Holly’s eyes opened wide as an emotional presence seemed to suddenly appear! “I feel,” she began uncertainly.   Holly closed her eyes reaching for the emotions she suddenly felt. “Oh, Ravindra it’s you!” Holly exclaimed excitedly. “Really you! And you’re not, not sad any more—not at all!” With her eyes still shut tight, Holly reached around and hugged Ravindra happily. “I’m so glad!” she whispered.  
          “Occlumency!” said Ravindra with satisfaction. “I practice it all the time but the Ravindra you met wouldn’t have known how. Are these emotions better than the last ones?”  
          “Oh, yes!” breathed Holly with a sigh of contentment. “Much!”  
          “I want to try something,” said Ravindra, “but I need your help.”  
          “What?”  
          “I want you to look at me.”  
         “Oh, no! I couldn’t,” exclaimed Holly.  
         “Yes, you can,” argued Ravindra. “You already know the worst that will happen; you can handle it and there’s something I want you to see; it’ll be O.K., I promise. Will you do it?”  
          “I guess,” replied Holly uncertainly.  
          “Ready?” asked Ravindra.  
          Holly gulped and nodded. She felt Ravindra place her hands on Holly’s shoulders and gently push her body away.  
          “Then open your eyes.”  
          Holly fearfully opened her eyes. As before the bright beads swirled back and forth around Ravindra’s face but while Holly watched Ravindra’s hand reached up through the swirl and grabbed one of the non-swaying braids. Her other hand reached out to the end of the braid and began to remove the beads on the braid, one by one.  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly in dismay realizing suddenly what Ravindra was doing. “Your beads! Your beautiful beads! You love them so!”  
          “Better them than a friend,” said Ravindra resolutely while dropping the loose beads in a pocket. “It’s time I had a new hair style,” she added as she reached for a second braid and began to remove its beads as well. And as Holly focused in disbelief on this ultimate act of sacrifice in appearance, the other beads and their braids, the swirling ones seemed to disappear one by one. “What do you see now?” Ravindra asked Holly when she had finished removing all the beads.  
          “I see—Ravindra, just Ravindra,” said Holly and she hugged Ravindra again. As she did so, Holly remembered the last time she had hugged Ravindra like this. They had cried then and Holly began to cry again. But this time they were tears of joy as Holly felt the warmth and happiness of Ravindra’s emotions surround her.  
          “Want to help me undo the braids?” Ravindra asked when the tears subsided.  
          “Uh, sure,” said Holly. She sat up, reached for a braid and began untwisting the slender strands of black hair.  
          “So tell me, what’s with the stairs?” Ravindra asked casually.  
          “It’s Peter Pettigrew!” replied Holly with a grimace. And she proceeded to tell Ravindra all about the journey she had made up the stairs with him…  
          “Eww!” said Ravindra sympathetically.  
          “Are you going to tell the others?” asked Holly worriedly. They had finished undoing the braids. Holly used her fingers to fluff out Ravindra’s hair.  
          “Of course not!” assured Ravindra. “We sit around and discuss the unique and unusual things we see at school, but not the explanations. If you can’t figure or learn that part for yourself then you have no business knowing!”  
          “Oh.”  
          Ravindra selected a small piece of wood. Using her wand, she transfigured the wood into a simple comb. Holly took the comb and ran it through Ravindra’s hair.   “Speaking of which, have you told the rest of the Hufflepuffs what happened to you this summer?”  
          “No, of course not!”  
          “That’s wrong!” replied Ravindra emphatically. “So wrong! You’re a Hufflepuff, Holly! The Hufflepuffs work best together. They share each other’s problems and triumphs. For them, there is strength in numbers.”  
          “How do you know that?”  
          “Because I’m Ravenclaw,” replied Ravindra with pride. “The first thing I did at Hogwarts was learn how all the other Houses work. You’ve got to tell them everything!” she urged. “You’ll feel much better afterwards,” she assured Holly. “They’re your family!”  
          “I’ll think about it,” muttered Holly worriedly. It had been difficult enough talking to Becky and Mark. The thought of talking to the whole group at once seemed positively intimidating. Holly surveyed Ravindra’s brushed out hair thoughtfully. Then she removed the pink spray of scented sweet pea flowers in her hair and used it to pin Ravindra’s hair back from her face. “There,” she announced with satisfaction. “That looks better.”  
          “Do I look like the person in the Security Alert?”  
          “No. You don’t look like her at all.”  
          “Good. Because that person doesn’t exist, not now, not ever—thanks to you. It’s getting dark,” Ravindra observed looking up through the trees. “Shall we be getting back?”  
          “O.K.,” agreed Holly and the two got to their feet, brushed off their clothes, and started walking out of the woods.  
          “You do realize that once we start dueling, there will be no holds barred, don’t you?” said Ravindra casually as they walked.  
          “What!” exclaimed Holly suddenly realizing that Ravindra was threatening to put the beads back on for dueling. “You can’t be serious!”  
          “Of course I am! You’ve got to learn how to defend yourself with or without distractions. If a Dark Wizard were to get the idea that beads could distract you he would not hesitate to use that against you!”  
          Holly sighed with resignation. “Yeah, I know; he would have.” Holly felt a quick surge of interest in Ravindra. Holly could tell Ravindra had easily guessed the identity of “he.”    
          “You know, I would really like to hear what happened after you got on that train to London…” Ravindra began after a few more steps. “I know we all would,” she added meaning the rest of the members of her Auror class. “Would you consider telling us sometime? Think about it,” Ravindra suggested lightly not giving Holly a chance to respond, “and give me an answer later. It’s not just that I’m interested,” Ravindra continued quickly, “although I am, but we don’t have a lot of case studies to work from and I think your story could be very useful to us in our chosen profession… “  
          “O.K. I’ll think about it,” conceded Holly glad she didn’t have to give a definite answer.  
          “Aren't those your friends waiting by the gate?” asked Ravindra.  
          Holly looked up. Mark and Becky were indeed seated comfortably against the gateposts. They looked like they were casually reading, but drawing closer, Holly could tell they were both worried and probably not reading much at all. Mark looked up, saw the two and immediately radiated immense relief. Becky looked up and her emotions reflected the same.  
          “Nice hair style,” observed Becky upon their arrival.  
          “Thank you,” replied Ravindra. “I figured it was time for a change. You needn’t have waited for Holly out here,” she added. “I’d have stayed with her until we found you inside…”  
          “We kind of figured that you might not want to be _seen_ walking inside with Holly,” said Mark bluntly. Ravindra raised her eyebrows questioningly at the remark. “You’re an Auror student, aren’t you,” continued Mark accusingly. “That’s why you wanted to talk in private; it’s why Holly trusts you, why she was so upset to meet you on the streets; maybe why you survived on the streets in the first place!”  
          Ravindra merely smiled. “Since Holly is back safely with you,” she said mildly, “I ought to be going. I’ve prefect duties to be attending to… Goodbye, Holly,” Ravindra added, turning to Holly. “I’ll see you around.”  
          “Good-bye,” replied Holly giving Ravindra one final hug. Ravindra walked off leaving the three friends together. After a few steps, the emotional presence that was Ravindra suddenly winked off. Holly looked up and watched Ravindra walk back to the castle.  
          “Are you O.K.?” asked Becky after Ravindra had disappeared.  
          “Fine,” assured Holly. More than fine actually; Holly was certain no matter how many beads Ravindra put on, she would never see in her the Ravindra of the Security Alert poster.


	21. Chapter 21

          “Professor Hagrid,” began Becky timidly. She wasn’t actually afraid of the professor, of course, but his size still intimidated her and she didn’t like speaking in front of the class. “I have something for you.”  
          The Professor looked down at her expectantly. He watched while Becky reached into her bag, drew out a bucket full of flobberworms and handed it to him. “Good Show!” he said delightedly. “Five points fer Hufflepuff!” Becky flushed pink. She rarely earned House points.  
          “You just probably combined all the flobberworms in your House to fill that bucket!” said Tony Richards dismissively.  
          “Actually,” said Mark proudly while he walked to a leather tarp set carefully on one side of the class where all the Hufflepuff members stood. “They’re all full!” He pulled back the tarp to reveal several more buckets, each filled to the brim with shiny green flobberworms. Even the Slytherins were impressed. The rest of the Hufflepuffs proudly lifted their own buckets and brought them to the Professor.  
          “An’ jes in time!” said the Professor cheerfully. “I’ve sumthin’ I want ter show ya! Follow me!” he instructed. He walked off towards Cuddles’ old enclosure and the students dutifully followed.  
          “How did you do it?” Rose whispered to Holly while they walked.  
          “Do what?”  
          “Get the flobberworms to multiply so fast? Even scraping them twice a week doesn’t seem to make much difference!”  
          Holly checked first to see no Slytherins were within hearing before she answered. “Remember the food fight at the beginning of the year?” she began.  
          “Yes.”  
          “Well, some of the food fell into Becky’s flobberworm bucket!”  
          “And?”  
          “And it turns out that flobberworms like a bit of milk with their food… Not much, mind you, just a tablespoon or two. But it really speeds up the growth.”  
          “Thanks. We’ll have to try that.”  
          Cuddles was once Hagrid’s pet spitting monitor lizard. It had needed an area the size of a small football field with high walls to keep the corrosive spit from damaging the neighborhood. Holly had helped build Cuddles’ huge oval shaped pen with sturdy high mud plastered walls with her cousins as part of detention her first year at Hogwarts. The Headmaster had persuaded Hagrid to get rid of Cuddles at the end of the year.  
          The enclosure had later been used by Lulu, an orphaned saber-toothed tiger that Hagrid raised from a smelly spitting kitten. The space had remained empty ever since Lulu had been given away to Hagrid’s half brother Grawp.  
          As the group drew near, Holly could see a tall tree seemed to have sprouted and grown tall within the pen. It hadn’t been there last year; how could it have grown so large and tall so fast? The tree was so straight and tall it towered over the other trees in the woods and seemed to reach into the sky. The nearest branches were higher than the tops of the other trees. A simple ladder had been attached to the wall of the enclosure. Hagrid bade everyone to climb up it and down the one on the other side.  
          “Why didn’t you just build a gate?” muttered Scorpus loudly.  
          “Would have been a shame ta destroy such good construction work!” replied Hagrid firmly. “I may want ta use it again…” Holly shuttered inwardly at the prospect.  
          “Mr. Potter, helped me build this,” Hagrid added proudly when everyone had gotten off the ladder.  
          “Not the _clumsy nutter?_ ” exclaimed Shirley Ogg derisively. “Careful,” she added loudly addressing the rest of the class, “it may fall!”  
          Professor Hagrid frowned. “It was _James_ Potter,” he corrected quietly, “though I would have gladly accepted the assistance of young Mr. Potter, had he been available at the time. And we do not refer to each other using such terms,” he said sternly. “Five points from Slytherin!”  
          Shirley frowned at the rebuke and, as if on cue, the huge ladder that they had come down clattered loudly to the ground. Like everyone else, Holly looked at the source of noise and saw that the ladder had landed mostly upon the group of Slytherins and Albus, at the other end of the ladder, was scrambling to his feet.  
          “It wasn’t me!” exclaimed Albus trying hastily to right the ladder but it was too heavy and bulky for him to move alone. “It just fell!”  
          “Yeah, right! It just fell on its own right onto me!” said Shirley in disbelief standing up and surveying the damage. “Now I’m all muddy!” she complained.  
          “And my wrist hurts!” added Martina crossly while holding her arm carefully.  
          “Why don’t you watch what you’re doing!” added Tony angrily. “I’m tired of all these “accidents!”  
          “Don’t you think I am too!” retorted Albus equally angry! “I was watching and it wasn’t my fault; I’m telling you!”  
          “Now, now,” said Professor Hagrid soothingly. “No need to get all worked up. There was no real damage done here.” He made his way between the students to the ladder. Using one hand he easily lifted the ladder and put it back into place. “I’m sure I had it fastened good,” he added disarmingly, “but ya never know.” Then he offered a hand to assist the remaining Slytherin students up but they refused disdainfully. “Come on!” the Professor told the group and led the way towards the pole.  
          Mark looked back at the ladder thoughtfully as they walked. “It sure seemed fastened solidly when I went down it,” he mused.  
          “I would have said so too,” agreed Becky.  
          “Gather around!” called Professor Hagrid drawing their attention to the tall tree standing in the middle of Cuddles’ old pen. It was even bigger up close stretching several meters in girth. The thick trunk shot out of the ground with barely a ripple in the surrounding area to show the whereabouts of its roots. It’s dark rust colored bark stood out starkly against the pale gray of the mud-plastered enclosure.  
          “Is that a Redwood tree?” asked Rose in disbelief.  
          “Yep!” replied Professor Hagrid proudly.  
          “They’re not supposed to grow here,” said Leila.  
          “Well I had a little help from Professor Longbottom with that,” explained the Professor. “What d’ya think is in top of this tree?” he asked. Everyone looked up at the top of the tree. The crown of branches seemed thicker up there.  
          “Could it be a nest?” guessed Alessa Moore.  
          “Right yeh are!” crowed Professor Hagrid. “Five points fer Ravenclaw! But what kind?”  
          “Not a … It couldn’t be …” began Rose in disbelief, “a Roc?”  
          “Right again!” said Professor Hagrid. “Five points fer Gryffindor!”  
          “But Rocs don’t exist!” protested Becky.  
          “Tha’s what Muggles think!” corrected Hagrid. “Rocs have the ability to make themselves invisible when it feels threatened or scared.”  
          “They’re very, very rare,” contributed Leila Pilkington.  
          “And they don’t live this far north!” added Scorpius Malfoy.  
          “Right again!” said Professor Hagrid. “Which is why it’s th’ perfect place ta raise ‘em! No natural predators! I got in touch with the Department of Endangered Magical Species,” he went on to explain, “an’ we’re working with ‘em ta raise a Roc this year!” The students looked at each other in disbelief at this news.  
          “What’s wrong with its own parents?” asked Shirley Ogg.  
          “Nothin!” said Professor Hagrid. “They’re just busy raising another baby!” He grinned at the confusion in the students’ faces. “See, Rocs will raise only one baby chick at a time. If sumthin’ happens to a Roc’s egg th’ female Roc will lay another one. So if th’ wizards take th’ firs’ egg, hatch an’ raise it, an th’ parents lay a second egg then two baby Rocs will grow up instead of one!”  
          “So there’s a baby Roc up there?” asked Susan Breysburry looking up and shading her eyes so she could see better.  
          “Nope! There’s a Roc _egg_ up there! It’s about ready ta hatch an’ the babies just _love_ flobberworm!”  
          “But if we take care of it, then the bird will think we’re it’s parents and won’t know how to survive in the wild,” protested Rose.  
          “Tha’s a good point,” agreed Professor Hagrid. “Which is why we’re usin’ these special brooms I got from th’ Department…” He lifted a tarp to reveal two huge black birdlike heads and beaks with long necks. Upon closer inspection the neck was actually the handle of a broom covered by a black cloak. “Ya put th’ flobberworms in th’ beak,” explained the Professor, “cover yerself with th’ cloak and fly up ta feed the chick. That way he’ll think it’s a Roc, not a student, feeding it!”  
          “You expect us to fly around in that smelly old thing?” demanded Scorpius.  
          “T’aint smelly!” reproved Professor Hagrid. “It’s been freshly cleaned and scented with Eau d’Roc fer the sake of th’ chick and yes, I _do_ expect you to use it. It’s a life we’re talking about not some ruddy game and I expect you students to take every precaution necessary to take care of it. Students who fail to live up ta that expectation will have ta answer ta me _and_ th’ Department of Environmental Protection! Now, fer today,” he continued, “I want ya to practice flyin’ wit’ the brooms. It’s kind o’ tricky maneuvering with th’ beak on yer head. Who wants ta volunteer first?” The students looked uncertainly at each other.  
          “I will,” voiced Albus suddenly and he boldly stepped forward.  
          “Good fer you!” said Professor Hagrid approvingly. “I remember your dad was always th’ firs’ to try new things too!” The class watched with interest while Hagrid fitted the beak over Albus’ head. “Ya can see through the nostril holes,” the Professor told him. “There,” he told Albus. “Yer all ready. Just mount up and fly around the tree a few times and return. Then we’ll let someone else have a try.”  
          Albus took off instantly looking like some weird black wingless bird as he shot up into the sky. He swooped around the tree before coming back down to earth for a perfect landing. “That was great!” he reported as he took off the beak head. “The head puts you a bit off balance but once you compensate for the extra weight it’s pretty easy to fly.”  
          Not to be outdone, the Slytherins students clamored to try next.  “I thought Rocs only built their nest in the top of mountains,” commented Leila while waiting for her turn to fly.  
          “They like to nest in high places,” informed Professor Hagrid, “and a tall tree was easier to manage here than a mountain top.”  
          Holly breathed a sigh of relief when Professor Hagrid announced that class time had ended. Not all the students had a chance to fly with the bird suit. Holly was among them. She couldn’t try; Healer Winonan had specified that Holly not do any broom flying. Holly was glad that she hadn’t stood out as the only student who hadn’t flown.  
          “When will the chick hatch?” asked Susan eagerly as they gathered their things.  
          “Any day now,” reported the Professor. “Once the chick hatches, we’ll set up a feeding schedule by House. Each House may manage it’s time any way it chooses as long as th’ chick remains healthy and well fed during their time.” He glanced briefly at Holly as he said that.  
          Holly gulped realizing suddenly that part had been for her sake. The professor knew she was under medical restrictions to not fly. Now she wouldn’t have to and no one in class would inquire why. Part of her was relieved because of the restrictions. Holly was lousy on a broom, and had actually fallen off the last time she had ridden on one. At the same time Holly felt guilty she couldn’t pull her fair share of the work. She resolved to help some other way to offset the fact that everyone else in her House would be flying up there except her.  
          On the way back, Mark paused to examine the ladder that had fallen earlier. “Look!” he said excitedly to Becky and Holly. Holly looked at the edges he indicated. The rounded parts where once the ladder had been attached looked faintly familiar.  
          “Lizard spit!” pronounced Becky.  
          “Well it was the Lizard’s pen…” reminded Holly hesitantly.  
          “I can’t see two year old spit sitting out in the open doing this kind of damage,” said Mark. “This was deliberate!”  
          “But who would do something like this and why?” exclaimed Becky.  
          “The “why” is easy,” replied Holly confidently, “to make Albus look bad. Why someone has it out for him I don’t know,” she added. “But who… I unblocked right after it happened and nobody felt the slightest bit of guilt!” she assured her friends.  
          “Perhaps you were looking for the wrong thing,” suggested Mark slowly.  
          “What do you mean?”  
          “I mean maybe you can’t sense the guilty person because that particular person can’t be sensed!”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Occlumency! Are you sure you felt all the emotions present?”  
          “That’s right!” said Becky eagerly. “You’ve always said you can’t sense Paige. If she were doing this stuff, you’d never know!”  
          “But Paige wasn’t here!”  
          Course not!” replied Mark. “But she’s not the only one who practices Occlumency,” he reminded her. “There was that Slytherin on the quidditch team, remember? Maybe someone else you don’t know about is practicing Occlumency. When’s the last time you’ve counted emotions?”  
          “But we’re third years!” protested Holly. “They don’t teach Occlumency until the sixth!”  
          “So, you’re learning it, why not others?” replied Becky practically. Holly had to admit they both had a point. So she resolved to start matching emotions with names. As Mark pointed out, knowing who practiced Occlumency did not give them a culprit, but it was a start.

********************

          “Wake up! Wake up! Oh, do wake up!”  
          Holly Wycliff forced her eyes open. “Wh—what is it?” she asked blearily. Sasha purred contentedly in her ear as Holly struggled to wake up.  
          “It’s hatched!” Becky said excitedly. “The roc’s hatched! Get up! Get up!” she urged.  
          “Why?”  
          “There’s a House meeting for us in the common room, now!”  
          “Why?” asked Holly as she pulled back the covers and sat up. “What time is it anyway?” she added looking about. It seemed horribly early in the morning.  
          “Who cares what time it is,” said Becky impatiently, “but the meeting’s got to be about the chick!” Becky exclaimed eagerly. “Come on!”  
          Holly hurriedly put on some clothes and followed Becky into the common room. Already present was Prefect Gwen Feinstein and the other Hufflepuff members of the Magical Creatures class, Mark, Susan Breysbury, Mickey O’Toole, and Hugh Douglass. Gwen smiled at their arrival and waited until both Holly and Becky sat down before beginning.  
          “As you may already know,” she began, “the Roc has hatched. It started breaking it’s egg late last night and was fully out and drying off an hour ago.” Becky and the other students looked at each other excitedly. “Now Professor Hagrid called a meeting of the prefects to go over the feeding schedule,” continued Gwen. Sasha settled contentedly on Holly’s lap and Holly stroked the cat absently while she listened. “We drew the morning shift,” Gwen told them. “The Professor wants the Roc fed every hour on the hour. That means you’re on duty from sunrise to 8:00 a.m. That’s a feeding at 6:00, 7:00 and 8:00a.m. The Slytherins begin their shift at 9:00, the Gryffindors start theirs at 1:00 and the Ravenclaws start theirs at 4:00p.m. and will continue until dusk.  
          Now, what that means is that two of you will go down to the tree, put on the Roc costumes, fill one bird mouth with flobberworms and the other with blood worms and fly to the chick. You have to fly out a bit and come back in horizontally instead of straight up from the base of the tree because that’s what a bird would do.  
          The person with the flobberworms flies in first. And when the chick has finished the flobberworms, the person with the bloodworms comes in. Bloodworms apparently have lots of vitamins to supplement the diet. The amounts you will need of each worm will be posted at the base of the tree according to the age and weight of the chick. Any questions so far?”  
          The students looked at each other and then shook their heads.  
          “Good. Now I’ve made a tentative schedule of who will fly when,” Gwen passed a paper to each student. “If it meets with your approval, I shall pass it to the appropriate professors to excuse you from class to feed the bird, if necessary. I put Becky and Mark first before class so they can be with Holly the rest of the day. Then it’s Mickey and Hugh. I shall also need a volunteer to fly a second shift with Susan at the 8:00 time.”  
          “Why not Holly?” asked Hugh asking the obvious having noted, as did Holly, that her name was not on the list.  
          Gwen didn’t answer but looked at Holly instead. Holly felt her face redden with shame and embarrassment. “I can’t fly!” she blurted. “Healer Winonan said I couldn’t! But I could go with someone else and wait below…”  
          “No, Holly, I’m afraid not,” said Gwen gently. “You have to have someone with you outside the dorms at all times and that person can’t be watching you and feeding the Roc at the same time…”  
          Holly looked around the group. No one said anything but the unspoken “Why?” shouted out louder than words. “There’s no point in me being here,” she muttered and fled the common room.

********************

          Holly stared glumly at the bedpost while stroking her loudly purring cat. It wasn’t fair her friends had to do double work because of her! Ravindra was right! She _had_ to tell them what was going on, at least try to explain… They deserved to know. But could she brave so many people with her story? Would they even believe her if she tried?  
          “It’ll be O.K. You’ll see,”” said Becky coming up behind Holly. “We made you in charge of the bloodworms and flobberworms,” Becky added while rubbing Holly’s shoulders and arms. “You can do it on your own time in the dorms and it takes forever to clean those  flobberworms so we figured it was a fair trade…”  
          “I’ve got to tell them,” said Holly resolutely.  
          “Yes,” agreed Becky without protest. “And that’ll be O.K. too,” she said reassuringly. “Mark and I will stand by you the whole time.”

********************

          “It’s sooooo cute!!!” gushed Becky. Becky was describing her experience feeding the Roc chick, again…  
          “Is it?” questioned Holly politely as she cleaned a flobberworm. She had heard an enthusiastic account of the bird feeding that morning from Becky and Mark while they were going down the stairs. And she heard it again at breakfast when Becky and Mark excitedly related their adventures to the other students at the Hufflepuff table. Then Holly had heard Mark, Becky, Mickey, Hugh and Susan compare Roc feeding reports at lunch and the chick was discussed again that night as four of them vied for the chance to go a second time with Susan the next day. They hadn’t named it yet, Professor Hagrid said it was too young to determine whether it was a boy or girl yet but Becky was pushing for a gender-neutral name like Jamie or Nikki. Susan thought they should have a proper naming contest with a drawing and everything.  
          “It is!” replied Becky enthusiastically. “Of course, it’s rather large, about the size of a small dog, and that scared me a bit when I first saw it, but when it opened it’s beak and made those funny cawing sounds and the broom sort of answered back, well, it was sooooo cute!”  
          “It sounds like it,” replied Holly neutrally while picking up another worm.  
          “I never thought I could fly so high,” continued Becky almost non-stop. “I made the mistake of glancing down once and it nearly took my breath away! It was like flying in an airplane without the plane! I’d have fallen for sure if the costume hadn’t kept me in place.”  
           “That’s pretty scary,” agreed Holly. “I’m glad you didn’t fall.”  
          “Me too! I’m not boring you, am I?” questioned Becky as she grabbed another worm.  
          “Of course not,” lied Holly as she pulled off her gloves and put them carefully in the enchanted cleaning bag. Feeding the Roc was the most exciting thing Becky had ever done and Holly was glad for her. Holly was also envious and sad she couldn’t do it too. But Becky was Holly’s friend and it wasn’t her fault that Holly couldn’t fly so Holly tried hard to not let her negative feelings ruin Becky’s obvious delight. Holly picked up the bowl of worms she had just finished cleaning and poured them into a separate bucket.  
          “Whose bucket is that?” asked Becky curiously noting for the first time it wasn’t one of the buckets the Hufflepuffs used.  
          “Rose’s,” replied Holly briefly. “She asked if we had some extra they could have to help replenish their stock.”  
          “Oh. What happened to theirs?”  
          “Apparently Albus and Taylor flew the first shift. They didn’t know how much flobberworms to bring so they brought a bucket filled all the way with worms. They left the remainder at the base of the tree to bring back afterwards.”  
          “So?”  
          “Well, somebody stirred some cracked green nuts into the worm bucket and then tipped it over.”  
          “No!”  
          “Flobberworms don’t like nuts,” added Holly dryly. “They all died.”  
          “That’s awful!” exclaimed Becky. “That what you and Rose were talking about at dinner?” Rose had slipped a note to Holly during dinner asking if she had time to talk a few minutes.  
          “Yes,” affirmed Holly. “Rose is afraid they won’t have enough worms to keep up a feeding schedule plus have the necessary extra to reproduce. I asked Gwen if we could,” continued Holly. “She said I was in charge of the flobberworms and if I thought we could spare some then we should help out.”  
          “Of course!” agreed Becky. She lifted one of their other buckets of flobberworms and poured some more into Rose’s bucket.  
          “Albus accused the Slytherins of deliberately sabotaging their flobberworm supply,” added Holly informatively. “The Slytherins denied it, of course. They claimed Albus was his usual clumsy self, tipped the bucket and then added the nuts to implicate the Slytherins. There was a big fight about it and Albus lost more house points as there was no real evidence to back his original accusation.”  
          “That’s terrible!” exclaimed Becky sympathetically.  
          “I know,” sighed Holly. “I wish I could find out who is doing this to him.”  
          “How are you doing in your search for people practicing Occlumency?” asked Becky.  
          “Not too good. So far, the number of emotions in the classes we share match the head count.”  
          “So that means someone from outside of class must be doing this.”  
          “Not necessarily,” replied Holly glumly. “Both Headmaster Snape and Lord Voldemort had emotions I could easily feel until they realized I was an Empath. Then they both shut down and it was like I was wearing blinders!” Roland and Ravindra could do that too, but Holly didn’t mention them. “Of course, they were both accomplished wizards,” continued Holly, “and I can’t see any of the students in our classes being good enough to do that.”  
          “Me neither,” agreed Becky, “unless it was one of the Ravenclaws. But they all seem pretty nice; I can’t imagine them doing stuff to Albus.”  
          “Why would anyone?”  
          “I’ve an idea,” said Becky suddenly. “Mark and I are up anyway, so why don’t we just go early to breakfast tomorrow and sit at the end of the table near the entrance.   You can match students to emotions as they walk in to eat. They won’t be expecting to see you there so maybe you’ll learn something interesting. I’ll tell Mark to bring his list of Hogwarts student and we can check them off.”  
          “O.K.” agreed Holly. “I’ll bring along the extra flobberworm bucket for Rose then, too.”  
          Becky yawned. “You know, I’m tired,” she acknowledged. “I think I’ll get to bed. I’ve got to get up early, you know. You coming too?”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly. It had been a long day. Holly put aside her things and stood up.  
          “Did I tell you its beak was all black with an orange stripe running down the middle?” questioned Becky she started for the stairs to their room.  
          Holly rolled her eyes and stifled a sigh. “Is it?” she replied patiently.  
          “Yes, I wanted to take a photo of it for you but the Professor said the sound of cameras would scare it too much…” Professor Hagrid had apparently met them at the tree to make sure they managed the first feeding properly. Becky started up the stairs.  
          “That’s O.K.,” said Holly calmly while following. “I’ll manage.”  
          Prefect Gwen looked up from her studies and smiled as Holly passed. “It’s the newness,” she whispered to Holly. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass in a day or two and then she’ll be back to normal.”  
          “I hope so,” Holly whispered back. “Maybe you can draw a picture of it for me,” Holly suggested in a louder voice as she started up the stairs.  
          “That’s a great idea,” said Becky enthusiastically. “But I’m not that great of an artist… I could try some of that art parchment Carrie’s got, but I’m not sure I could manage it and the broom at the same time…”

********************

          “Hi ya cuz!” said James Potter affectionately. “How’s it going?” He smiled warmly as he approached. James always came to breakfast early and when he saw Holly and her friends sitting at the end of the table eating, he had come over instantly to visit.  
          “Fine,” said Holly with a polite smile.  
          “What are you doing up at this hour?” James questioned. Rose had reported that Holly wasn’t on the Roc feeding schedule. James wondered if that was because of her “flashback” problems. He would never ask Holly about that directly though, certain reminding her of what she couldn’t do would make her feel bad.  
          Holly hesitated then answered honestly. “I’m looking for someone with something to hide…”  
          “Any luck?” asked James instantly becoming serious. He had no doubt of whom she sought. He was seeking that person too. Albus’ apparent clumsiness and the numerous House points lost because of it had been a source of constant conflict within the Gryffindor House. It hurt to see Albus ridiculed so and James had gotten into several scrapes defending him loosing even more House points. But without a proper explanation and a true culprit to point at the jibs continued.  
          Holly sighed. “Not yet,” she replied, “but it’s still early…”  
          “Well, let me know if you turn up something,” James told her.  
          “I will,” she assured him and James walked over to the Gryffindor table and joined Lawrence for breakfast.

********************

          Holly watched James leave for class after finishing breakfast. So far, hunting for the guilty student had been a big bust. Most of the students ignored Holly as they walked in, more concerned with their classes for the day. Holly was able to easily read the emotions of the younger students; with Becky and Mark’s help the students were identified and their names checked off. To Holly’s surprise, several of the older students seemed to be practicing some form Occlumency with varying degrees of success. Mark duly noted their names as “possibles” but all of them seemed more concerned with classes than playing “tricks.”  
          Holly spotted three of the Auror students she had met last year; they didn’t have emotions Holly could read, but she didn’t tell Mark that. Their identities had to be kept secret and Holly didn’t think for an instant any of them were involved with Albus’ troubles. Ravindra dropped her Occlumency as soon as she spotted Holly. She smiled at Holly and let in a brief flood of normal cheerful emotions before walking off as an invisible mental presence.  
          Rose had come in with Lily, Albus and Taylor. She accepted the bucket of flobberworms gratefully. Albus smiled his thanks but beneath the smile he was angry and frustrated. Taylor and Rose were as worried as James had been. Lily smiled politely but was horribly sad and lonely underneath. Holly’s heart went out to Lily but didn’t know what to do to help her.  
          “You know,” mused Mark as the three hurried off to class. “It wasn’t a total waste of time. There were some students that didn’t come down for breakfast at all.”  
          “Like who?” questioned Becky.  
          “Some of the older Slytherins including Paige and Richards,” replied Mark while handing Becky the list. “Maybe there’s a reason they’re not eating meals. I think we should concentrate on seeing what they’re up to…”  
          “I don’t know about the others, but Richards is probably hanging out on the seventh floor,” replied Holly glumly. She had talked Becky and Mark into trying a few more times to get into the Room of Requirement; the Room had refused to open and they had run into Richards each time. “You can cross Richards off your list,” she told Mark. “I’d know if Richards was trying something; he’s hopeless at concealing his emotions.”  
          “Right,” said Mark. “So let’s keep an eye out for these other students…”

  *********************

          “And remember,” added Prefect Gwen, “those of you on bird duty can’t go to Hogsmead until _after_ you’ve done your feeding.” Holly was sitting with the rest of the group at the weekly House meeting. Prefect Gwen had already reminded the younger Hufflepuffs to stay in groups, gone over who had made the quidditch team and discussed the quidditch practice schedule.  
          “Can’t we trade our duty to someone not going to Hogsmead?” complained Mickey good-naturedly. At the moment, he was having the time of his life feeding the chick and would never consider giving up his turn.  
          “You may not,” replied Gwen sternly. “It’s _your_ class and _your_ responsibility to take care of the chick.”  
          “I heard Professor Hagrid will be out at the tree all day to make sure nobody slides on feeding,” added Ben. “Be glad you have the morning shift so there will still be plenty of time to go to Hogsmead afterwards.”  
          “Yeah,” laughed Eddie. “Think of the poor Gryffindors; their shift is midday so if they want to go to Hogsmead it’ll be a rush job just to get back in time…”  
          “Actually, Albus and Taylor will cover all three hours this week,” informed Holly. “Rose and Sylvia plan to do it next week and so on. That way they’ll get a chance to spend a full day at Hogsmead…”  
          “That’s a good plan,” conceded Eddie. “It’s probably safer for Albus to lay low anyway. There will be less chance for him to get into trouble…” The other students nodded appreciatively.  
          “And less things for him to trip over,” added Arthur Reid with a grin. He was a first year student. Several other first years laughed in agreement.  
          “Albus is not clumsy!” responded Holly sharply.  
          “Oh, come on,” argued Harriet Dempsey, another first year. “He falls over something every day!”  
          “He didn’t last year!” retorted Holly coldly, “and everyone here knows that.” The rest of the students nodded. “Somebody is doing this to him!” Holly added angrily.  
          “And is someone making him say he sees thestrals, too?” asked Cicily Roche derisively. She was another first year. “Everyone knows he hasn’t seen somebody die!”  
          “Um, actually, he probably has,” put in Clayton Eggleton shocking Cicily and the other first and second years into silence, “but that is something we don’t talk about,” he added calmly. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors and definitely not repeat them as fact.”  
          “Sorry,” said Cicily backing down but Holly knew Cicily hadn’t changed her opinions any.  
          “What have you all been saying to Lily Potter?” asked Holly suddenly. “She looks positively miserable! I know it can’t just be the Slytherins doing that to her!” Holly accused not giving the first years a chance to deny anything. “Lily can’t help the problems her brother is having!” Holly added. “She’s really nice and doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s been getting.”  
          “We’re Hufflepuffs,” Prefect Ben reminded the first years gently, “and we don’t make fun of anyone—not even non-Hufflepuffs!”  
          “Sorry,” said Cicily again and this time Holly felt a bit of guilt and remorse in Cicily’s emotions. Holly hoped the other first year Hufflepuffs felt the same way. Perhaps they would quit teasing Lily. Maybe one would even try to make friends with her…  
          “Moving on,” said Gwen changing the subject, “anyone who still needs a tutor be sure to sign up on the Tutor List. And that’s all I have for tonight,” she concluded. “If there’s nothing else then—”  
          “I have something to say,” interrupted Holly nervously. Ever since the chick had hatched Holly had spent all her time mentally bracing for this moment.  
          “Yes,” inquired Gwen politely.  
          “It’s about my, uh, medical problem…” Becky squeezed Holly’s hand reassuringly.  
          “You don’t have to talk about that,” said Gwen swiftly.  
          “I know,” replied Holly, “but it’s affecting everybody and you have a right to know.” There was a stirring of anticipation from the group and Holly added, “It’s just that I don’t like to talk about it…”  
          “It’s O.K.,” Becky whispered reassuringly in Holly’s ear. “You can do it!”  
          Holly swallowed, looked down and closed her eyes. “Remember that plaque in the trophy room?” she began hesitantly.  
          There were several murmurs of “Yes” among the group.  
          “Well, there was a second one on a tree outside granddad’s house, the one where Cousin Harry grew up in…” Holly could hear a collective gasp and a swift intake of breath.  
          “What plaque? What are you talking about?” The questions came from Carrie Breysburry and Lynette Huckaby, both second year students.  
          “Hush!” admonished Alex Buchanan, one of the sixth year students. “I want to hear! They got rid of it, right?” he added.  
          “Not right away,” admitted Holly. “You see, it was my brother Vernon who found it.   And he has g-green eyes…”  
          “No!” came the swift shocked response from the older students all of whom knew instantly what that meant.  
          “He touched it?” asked Ben with a sense of urgency. Holly gulped and nodded.  
          “What? What happened? I don’t get it!” asked Janet Turner, another first year.  
          “The plaque activates a Time Reverse Curse,” explained Gwen swiftly, “one of the darkest magic curses possible. They are very difficult to do and, if done properly, even harder to detect. This one was done by someone very magically gifted and very dark indeed. The curse did the same thing?” she questioned Holly directly. Holly nodded again and bowed her head keeping her eyes tightly closed unable to look around at all the people staring at her. “Then this curse reversed time back over 20 years and fixed it so Harry Potter would die during his second year at Hogwarts! This is serious stuff!” she added addressing the first and second years directly. “None of it leaves this room ever! Understand?” Holly lifted her head and opened her eyes in time to see the whole group of first and second years nod their heads solemnly.  
          “But I don’t get it,” exclaimed Cicily. “What does that mean?”  
          “It means,” began Ben, “that for a few minutes Holly was in a world ruled by You-Know-Who!”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Without Harry Potter,” he continued explaining. “Lord Voldemort (swift intake of breath from nearly everyone) would have won the Battle at Hogwarts—or maybe there wasn’t even a battle to fight and he just took over!” The first and second year students stared at Ben in disbelief. What he described was incomprehensible to them. Ben had their complete attention as he continued speaking, “But, as we all know, Harry Potter’s still alive. That means Holly must have touched the plaque on the tree after her brother Vernon, thus reversing time a _second_ time. She broke the curse and brought everything back to the way it’s supposed to be. Right?”  
          “Not exactly,” corrected Holly in a whisper looking down again and hugging her knees tightly.  
          “Oh?”  
          “The tree with the plaque,” she began hesitantly, “it wasn’t there in that other world…”  
          “Not there?!!!”  
          “What’d you do?” asked Vivian Walsh worriedly. She was a fifth year student.  
          “Well,” Holly said softly. “I went to tea…”

********************

          “But how could Mrs. Figg serve you tea in some house outside London when she lives at Hogwarts?” questioned Ivy Nesbitt, another first year…  
          “That’s the point,” explained Mark patiently, “she wouldn’t have been the Hogwarts Caretaker if Harry Potter had died.”  
          “So, who was Caretaker?” Ivy asked, still confused.  
          “Somebody named Peter Pettigrew,” replied Becky impatiently. Holly gave an involuntary shutter at the mention of his name. “Now hush, so Holly can continue,” Becky urged.

*********************

          “I didn’t know Harry Potter had an invisible cloak!” broke in Donald Wrezenski excitedly after Holly described the tea. “What’d you do with it?”  
          “I gave it back to him, of course,” said Holly firmly. “And I was glad I could!”  
          “Of course you were,” assured Gwen staunchly. “What happened next?”  
          The group listened without interruption until Holly mentioned she tried to call Becky…  
          “What do you mean there were no Smiths?” questioned Lynette. “Of course there were Smiths! You must have made your inquiry wrong!”  
          “I doubt it,” retorted Mark. “You said so yourself that the Ministry was shipping the Muggle born off to Azkaban Prison! We know now that Lord Voldemort was controlling the Ministry at that time. Do you think those prison trips would have stopped on their own? They all stopped only _after_ Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort!” Lynette sat back silent and thoughtful.  
          “Go on, Holly,” urged Eddie Shunpike and no one said anything until Holly mentioned seeing Cedric.  
          “He was alive?” questioned Ivy in disbelief. All the Hufflepuffs had seen the memorial photo in the Hufflepuff library.  
          “Yes,” affirmed Holly, “but it wasn’t much of a life. He just sat there staring.”  
          “What happened?” asked Susan.  
          “Wizard Pilkington said nobody knew,” replied Holly solemnly. “I think he knew, but wouldn’t say…” Holly went on to describe her experiences in the Security Station. Suddenly there was a loud guffaw from in back. “Excuse me,” choked Rupert Shunpike, “but did you say the person who arrested you was Wizard Flint?”  
          “Yes,” Holly nodded.  
          “Wizard _Macklin_ Flint?”  
          “I don’t know his first name.”  
          “Fairly tall with blonde hair and blue eyes?”  
          Holly nodded.  
          “I remember him!” continued Rupert. “He was the Slytherin Prefect when I started Hogwarts! Flint was an arrogant, useless, self-centered, egotistical Prat!!” added Rupert in reflection.  
          “Yeah!” agreed Ben. “Nobody liked him! If word ever got out that he might have been something more than what he is it would go to his head!”  
          “Wizard Pilkington didn’t like him either,” said Holly carefully. It had stunned her to learn what others thought of the wizard that had terrified her so. “But he obeyed Wizard Flint without question. The last thing Wizard Pilkington did for Wizard Flint was make him lunch for the trip—pie and a roast beef sandwich…”  
          Leaving out her own pain and fear, Holly related the details of her escape from Wizard Flint to the intense amusement of the older students all of whom remembered the person and clearly had no respect for him. They all grew sober when Holly told of the dementors and Ravindra. “Ravindra is smart,” observed Gwen quietly when Holly finished. “Really smart. If anyone could survive a world like that it would be her.”  
          “But she shouldn’t have had to,” commented Eddie. “What happened when you reached London?”  
          Holly closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. She felt Becky squeeze her hand reassuringly before she ventured to speak. “I saw Roland,” Holly whispered.  
          “What???” exclaimed several students in surprise. “Our Roland?”  
          “Yes.” Holly gulped nervously unwilling to speak but knowing she had to. “And he was in a Security uniform…” The news created quite a stir among the group.  
          “It can’t be!”  
          “Roland would never join Security!”  
          “He’s no Slytherin!”  
          “Nor was Wizard Pilkington,” reminded Gwen, “and he was in Security. Perhaps there’s more to this than just a uniform…”  
          “Did he see you?” asked Susan.  
          “Yes,” whispered Holly, “but just a glimpse. Then I put on the cloak and sneaked past him… It gave me such a start to see him there.”  
          “I can imagine,” said Ben. “I wonder why he was there?”  
          “Um, there was this bag in Lost and Found with my name on it,” began Holly hesitantly.  
          There was a moment of absolute silence while the group digested this piece of information. Then the room seemed to explode with sound. _"WHAT?”_  
          “Who knew your name?” demanded Marcy Huckaby.  
          “I, uh, kind of told Wizard Pilkington…” Holly confessed. “Well, he said he wanted to help and he was sincere,” she added quickly justifying herself, “but he didn’t believe me when I said my name…”  
          “Well, something must have happened to make him believe you later,” decided Gwen. “He and Roland were both Nons in Security,” she added. “They had to have been working together… What was in the bag?”  
          “Water, money and … a roast beef sandwich.” Everyone laughed. “I ate it, too!” Holly added with satisfaction. “I was so hungry that I just pictured Wizard Flint’s face while I ate and I didn’t get sick or anything!” Everyone laughed again.  
          “So you made it to Diagon Alley and Gringotts?” asked Eddie.  
          “Yes, but Gringotts wasn’t Gringotts,” replied Holly shivering remembering that cold red structure.  
          “No!”  
          “It had been rebuilt,” Holly added explaining. “I knew the key would open nothing there.”  
          “What did you do?”  
          “I, uh,” Holly hesitated recalling her dazed exit from Diagon Alley. “I went to Cousin Harry’s House.”  
          “But you said he was dead!” protested Arthur Reid.  
          “He was,” agreed Holly, “but Cousin Harry inherited his home from his Godfather Sirius Black. The Blacks were an ancient wizard family,” she explained. “The house was still there even if Cousin Harry wasn’t.”  
          “Harry Potter’s home is unplottable,” chipped in Lynette. She had a crush on Harry Potter and would know things like that about him.  
          “True,” agreed Holly, “but he gave me the location last fall. He said I was f-family and should have it.”  
          “And it worked?” asked Ben in disbelief.  
          “With some modifications,” confirmed Holly.  
          “That was taking a terrible risk,” said Gwen with a frown. “A lot of the Blacks supported Lord Voldemort. Why didn’t you seek out a Hufflepuff, or, uh, a “Non” for help?”  
          “It was the only address I knew,” replied Holly simply. Gwen frowned some more but said nothing.  
          “Sirius Black himself opened the door,” Holly went on. “I don’t know why he was alive but he was and he believed me!” she continued without giving any details. “He ordered his House Elf to take me to Hogwarts!” Holly added swiftly before anyone could comment out loud on the known particulars of Sirius Black’s past.  
          “I didn’t know House elves could do that!” exclaimed Donna MacMillan, a fifth year.  
          “Well they can,” asserted Holly. “And he took me to right inside the gates of Hogwarts just like that!” Holly didn’t want to talk about Kreacher, either, but he _had_ gotten her to Hogwarts.  
          “This was during the summer,” commented Rupert. “Who was there then?”  
          “Dementors, mostly,” replied Holly darkly. There was a sharp intake of breath from several students. “They caught me right outside the castle,” Holly added.  
          “No!”  
          “The Caretaker found me and took me up to see the Headmaster…”  
          “Not—Headmaster Snape?” asked Lynette remembering how upset Holly had been about him earlier.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly quietly. “He didn’t remember me, of course, but I knew him.  
          “You knew him how!” questioned Carrie Breysburry.  
          “Two years ago,” interposed Gwen, “when this happened before. Headmaster Snape took Holly to the plaque in the trophy room…”  
          “So he really was working for Dumbledore!” exclaimed Lynette in wonderment.  
          “Yes,” whispered Holly. She could feel tears flood to her eyes when she thought of him… “E-even though he knew it would mean his death, h-he took me there again…” She dropped her head unable to stop sobbing.  
          “That’s not all,” exclaimed Becky sensing Holly would end her description there, “Lord Voldemort was there!”  
          “No!”  
          “And the Headmaster walked her all the way to the trophy room right under Lord Voldemort’s nose!” Becky added importantly.  
          “Wow!”  
          And before a breathless audience Holly found herself describing her encounter with Lord Voldemort and her last minutes before touching the plaque. She also described finding Vernon and, for the benefit of the younger students, how she broke the curse.  
          “And then you got out?” questioned Rupert.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly, “I must have somehow, but the last thing I remember was going to one of the walls. I guess a stone must have fallen on top of me…”  
          “So how did you get out?’ asked Cicily.  
          “Mum and dad,” Holly answered. “Mum recognized the plaque from my description and called Becky’s parents. They got in touch with Cousin Harry; he came with his friends, and got us out just in time!” Everyone leaned back in relief.  
          “So Albus really did see someone die,” said Cicily wonderingly.  
          “Yes,” replied Gwen. “His father. And since Harry Potter is still alive, it’s kind of hard for Albus to explain why he sees thestrals. Albus has his reasons for keeping silent and we will respect them, understand?” Cicily nodded, as did the other first and second years. This time Holly could tell they meant it, too.  
          “So what’s with the medical stuff,” questioned Ben.  
          “It wasn’t a problem over the summer,” began Holly hesitantly, “but I seem to keep having flashbacks related to what happened.”  
          “Really?”  
          “Yes,” she admitted. “And some of them are pretty realistic. I, uh, thought I was aiming at Pettigrew on the train when I cast that spell…” she confessed as an example. “Healer Winonan is afraid I’ll have a flashback, loose control and get hurt in the process,” she added. “That’s why I can’t go around Hogwarts alone or fly…”  
          “And the stairs?” asked Donna.  
          Holly shuttered. Everyone must have noticed she had problems with the stairs but had just been too polite to mention it. “Pettigrew again,” she admitted. “He keeps on whispering to me as I go up…”  
          “Well, that explains a lot,” said Gwen effectively stopping any other questions. “We thank you for sharing that with us.” All the students nodded. “It also brings to light a glaring oversight of the Hufflepuffs I hadn’t noticed before…”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Holly should have never had to have gone to the Black family residence!” exclaimed Gwen. “She did so because she knew of no other place. That’s not right! Hufflepuffs are a family and I feel we’ve let Holly down by not being there for her.” There was a general murmur of agreement.  
          “But what can we do about it now?” questioned Donna.  
          “I propose we all write out our residence locations for Holly,” suggested Gwen. “That way she won’t be so … alone … in the future.”  
          “What if it’s unplottable?” asked Marcy Huckaby good-naturedly as she rummaged around for some paper.  
          “Then say so,” responded Gwen. “And maybe you can suggest another way you can be reached—just in case…” Marcy nodded and started writing industriously.  
          “What about the rest of us Muggle-born?” asked Hugh Douglass. “It’s not like we really know where any of you live either.”  
          “That’s a good idea,” said Gwen. “Maybe we can make up a general list for everyone later. But for now, let’s get something for Holly.”  
          “That’s not necessary,” protested Holly. “It’s not going to happen again,”  
          “Let’s hope not,” agreed Gwen. “But it _is_ necessary. We’ve all known how your dad feels about wizards and how isolated he has kept you from the wizard world. This will help offset it. And before I forget, remember everyone: work hard, do your best and if we help each other _we can do anything_.” As usual, the group as a whole said that last part.

********************

          “This is for you,” said Gwen to Holly a while later. She held out a parchment scroll filled with words. “I’m just sorry you didn’t have it sooner,” she apologized.  
          “That’s O.K.,” said Holly taking the scroll and looking at it with interest. “I managed. But it would have been very useful,” she added having immediately noted several names listing their residences in London. “I’ll keep it with my wand,” Holly told Gwen and she pulled out Lily’s wand.  
          “No,” corrected Gwen. “I know you’re tired and I hate to do this to you but you need to memorize the contents tonight. We’re wizards, you know, and it isn’t safe to have such information collected in one place so the writing is part of a timed spell that’ll all vanish by sunrise.”  
          “Then I’ll memorize it,” Holly assured Gwen though she had no idea how.  
          “I’ll help,” chipped in Becky.  
          “Good,” said Gwen with a smile. “If you’re helping Holly, then I’m sure she can do it. See you tomorrow.”  
          Holly looked at the length of the list and sighed. “Is this the part where we tell ourselves “we can do anything?” she asked Becky.  
          “No,” Becky replied taking the list from Holly. “This is the part where we _help_ each other and can _do_ anything.”  
          “Actually,” interrupted Susan Breysburry taking the paper from Becky. _“I’ll_ help and you get some sleep. You’re up first for feeding the Roc, remember?” she told Becky. “I can always sleep in… Now,” she began in a serious voice, “let’s start with the wizard families…”


	22. Chapter 22

          Hilbert John Bartholomew Montague the Third carefully inserted the brass key into the heavy lock. Then he slowly turned the key. The resulting “click” sounded loud in his ears. Fortunately, no one else was nearby to hear it. Hilbert removed the key and turned the brass knob. The door opened quietly. That was no surprise. Hilbert knew Headmaster Portermeyer always insisted that the hinges of the door to his office be kept well oiled.  
          Hilbert stepped into the office and shined his torch around the room. His light found the filing cabinets easily. Hilbert quietly moved over to the cabinets. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring filled with keys. Selecting one, he inserted it into the filing cabinet lock and turned it. The lock opened easily. Five years of attendance, quick fingers and a winning smile had enabled Hilbert to pick up and copy almost every key of importance on the Smeltings campus. His collection had come in handy numerous times.  
          This was not the first time Hilbert had broken into the Headmaster’s office. He had done it once, just to prove he could. Then he had come again to look at Wycliff’s file. The file had been as boring as Wycliff with no mention of his skinny sister or the Cousin Harry Wycliff's sister had mentioned in one of her letters.  
          While Hilbert didn’t believe Holly was actually the witch Vernon claimed she thought she was, there was something decidedly odd about Vernon’s sister and the way she always wrote using disappearing ink. That last ink she had used was rather impressive the way it seemed to run off the page… Hilbert shuttered inadvertently remembering how the purple ink had stained his hand for nearly a week! There had to be some way he could take advantage of the girl and her oddness, but he would work on that later… For the moment, Hilbert was more concerned with what could be found in his own file.  
          First, he returned the keys to his pocket then Hilbert carefully slid out the proper filing drawer. While the Smeltings staff used a fancy computer to enter and record all subjects and scores, Portermeyer preferred to store other pertinent student information through old-fashioned paperwork. Shining his torch on the contents, Hilbert found and rapidly removed the folder bearing his own name… Taking it to the desk, Hilbert opened the folder and sorted through its contents: letters of recommendation, copies of awards, testimonials, accolades… There! The one blot on his otherwise perfect record—an account of the little incident that had happened at the beginning of school year…  
          How was Hilbert to know Wycliff was so uninspired as to have engraved his _own_ name on the ring! There were no Wycliffs in Hilbert’s family as Portermeyer well knew and no chance for Wycliff to get the ring engraved. Had Hilbert known about the engraving he would have given more time between the complaint and the “loss” and gotten someone in the village to “swear” he had done the engraving.  
          Unable to back out of his original accusation, Hilbert had spun a hasty tale of a look-alike ring. But the seeds of doubt had already been sown. Hilbert had been given a choice of accepting Probation or face further investigation which would include bringing all those other “witnesses” in for further questioning and contacting Montague’s parents to learn more about the ring.... Hilbert wasn’t certain the “witnesses” would hold up to extensive questioning, and though his parents would readily confirm his ownership of a ring, they knew Hilbert had plenty, they would never get the description right without advance notice.  
          Hilbert plucked the offending probationary report and the accompanying description of the ring debacle out of his file. He folded both papers and tucked them into his pocket. Most memories were short. If Hilbert was careful to make no reference to the event and without the paperwork to remind him, Portermeyer might easily forget it had ever happened. If he did remember the incident, there would be no details and no proof to confirm it.  
          Hilbert straightened the papers in his folder and slipped it back in the proper drawer of the filing cabinet. Then he pulled out Pittman’s folder and removed Pittman’s sworn statement about the ring and a copy of the ring incident Portermeyer had attached to it. He removed similar information from Trevors’ file and from the files of the students who had provided statements that they had seen Vernon in the gym thus removing all physical evidence the event ever happened. Now the only thing that remained was that letter of apology Hilbert had been forced to write… Hilbert had repeated the look-alike ring story and apologized for jumping to conclusions too quickly; there was nothing too damaging in the apology but it still galled to have something in writing about the ring incident out there.  
          On impulse, Hilbert pulled out Wycliff’s file. As he suspected, there was nothing in it about the ring and nothing new added about Wycliff’s family. Hilbert took the opportunity to pull the paperwork that exonerated Wycliff of the break-in two years ago out but left the probation information. He had no reason to wish Wycliff well. Perhaps there’d be a new headmaster or Portermeyer would forget about the exoneration by the time Wycliff requested a reference…  
          Hilbert returned Wycliff’s folder to its proper place in the file and pushed the drawer shut. Then he relocked the cabinet. Using a handkerchief, he carefully polished the front of the cabinet making sure no fingerprints remained. Then he shined his torch around the office. Satisfied nothing looked out of place Hilbert turned off his torch and left the office closing and locking the heavy door behind him.  
          “Any problems?” whispered Trevors. He had been stationed outside the secretary’s office as lookout. Pittman was hidden outside the building near the entrance ready to head off any unexpected late arrivals—not that there should be at 2:00a.m.  
          “Nope!” replied Hilbert. “Piece of cake. Everything where I thought it would be,” he added patting his bulging vest pocket, which crinkled satisfactorily at the touch. “All that’s left is the apology letter.”  
          “Told you to not give it to him in the first place,” commented Trevors as they walked down the hall.  
          “Had to. Portermeyer has a thing about written apologies. He thinks they build character. He was certain to double-check like he did when he made those boys write Wycliff an apology two years ago. Things would be twice as bad if Portermeyer thought I hadn’t kept my word about that…”  
          “So when do you plan to retrieve it?”  
          “Tomorrow afternoon, while they’re in class. We’ve some time off then…”  
          “Sounds good to me.”  
          The two boys reached the entrance. Hilbert cautiously opened the door a crack and peeped outside. Everything looked quiet. Reassured, he opened the door wider and stepped quietly outside. Trevors silently followed. Then Hilbert carefully relocked the door and closed it behind them. The two boys met Pittman in the shadows besides the building and the three and headed off towards their rooms.

*********************

          Vernon Wycliff headed down the corridor with Kenny. It had been a busy day at school and both boys had a stack of homework to complete. Vernon wanted to relax a bit before starting on it.  
          He and Kenny had become roommates. Vernon had accompanied Kenny to the office the next morning to pick up his key.  
          “Oh, no! I don’t know how this can be!” exclaimed Mr. Jackson in dismay. Mr. Jackson was in charge of student affairs including dorm arrangements.  
          “What?” asked Kenny curiously.  
          “The paperwork reserving your room has somehow been misplaced! I don’t know how that happened; something like this has never happened before!”  
          Vernon had no doubt how that had managed to happen. Montague had probably been bored…  
          “So?” inquired Kenny.  
          “Well, all the singles have been taken and we had a high enrollment of the first year students so there is only one double room with space available!” explained Mr. Jackson worriedly.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes,” he confirmed. “I’ve never placed a fourth year with a second before; that’s totally against school policy—one year apart, if necessary, not two. But like I said, it’s the _only_ space available. You’ll have to room with a second year student named Bradley K. Pittman.” Mr. Jackson started rummaging around for the keys and missed the sudden pallor on Kenneth’s tan face. Pittman was the oversized student who delighted in using his knobbly stick for Montague and Trevors. Vernon knew Pittman was responsible for landing Kenny in the infirmary two years earlier. “You two are the same year,” Mr. Jackson suddenly said looking up at Vernon, “and seem to be friends. I don’t suppose you’d be willing, no, that would be too much to ask…”  
          “What?”  
          “Well, if you were to trade places with Mr. Pittman, then everything could be resolved with a minimum of fuss…” Mr. Jackson’s voice trailed off hopefully. “Otherwise, Mr. Perkins will have to room with Mr. Pittman until we can find some other third or forth year student willing to trade.”  
          “What if no one is willing to trade?” questioned Vernon cautiously. He knew no student would ever volunteer to room with Pittman.  
          “Then I suppose we have to look at seniority…” sighed Mr. Jackson with resignation, “but it’s not good for school morale to _force_ students to switch rooms.”  
          Vernon looked at Kenny. Neither of them liked Pittman! Kenny was proud though, and would never openly ask for Vernon’s help. “Well,” Vernon began slowly, “I wouldn’t want school morale to drop… And if Mr. Perkins will have to room with someone, I suppose it would be much better if he roomed with someone his own grade…”  
          “Then you’ll trade?” questioned Mr. Jackson brightening visibly.  
          “I guess so,” Vernon said letting his voice sound hesitant. It didn’t do to let Mr. Jackson know Vernon actually liked the idea of a trade. Single rooms were regarded as a coveted privilege at Smeltings. Besides, Kenny might not agree to the idea—he might think too much association would ruin their friendship. “That is, if it’s all right with Mr. Perkins...”  
          “I think that could work,” said Kenny slowly. His voice sounded reluctant too, but Vernon could see a glint of relief in Kenny’s face while his own spirits soared at the prospect. Albus was right; it _had_ felt better to have someone else in the room at night.  
          “Wonderful!” said Mr. Jackson enthusiastically. “I won’t forget this!”

********************

          Vernon reached out with his key to open the door to their room. He froze realizing suddenly that the door was already open!  
          “What’s wrong?” asked Kenny.  
          “The door’s unlocked!” replied Vernon worriedly. “I’m sure I locked it when I left this morning.”  
          “You did,” confirmed Kenny moving closer to look at the door.  
          Vernon cautiously pushed the door open. Something blocked the way and he had to give the door a considerable shove to get it open. Peering closer he saw all sorts of clothing strewn around. A desk chair had been pulled out and placed in the center of the room. In it sat Montague!  
          “Room inspection!” announced Montague coldly. “Your room’s a mess!” he added as he leaned back casually in the chair and placed his feet on the desk heedless of the papers and things already on it. Vernon didn’t have to look to know the two shadows he suddenly sensed looming behind him were Trevors and Pittman! How did they manage to come up so quickly and quietly?  
          Trevors and Pittman moved forward, their sheer presence forced Kenny and Vernon to do the same. Vernon stepped reluctantly into the room and Kenny followed. No doubt Pittman had made copies of the room key before returning it to Mr. Jackson.  
          “What do you want?” asked Vernon.  
          “I see you’re stuck with a roommate now, Wycliff!” said Montague derisively while ignoring Vernon’s question. “Who’d have thought you’d accept the demotion!”  
          “I rather thought it was a step up,” said Vernon conversationally, “considering the type of student who prefers the single room.” He glanced pointedly at Pittman who looked every bit the mindless bully he was.  
          Pittman looked uncertainly from Vernon then to Montague not sure what Vernon meant. “He’s not being polite,” Pittman accused finally.  
          “No, he isn’t,” agreed Montague with a frown.  
          “What do you want?” Vernon repeated.  
          “I want the letter!” said Montague removing his feet from the desk and sitting up.  
          “What letter?” As if those words had been an agreed upon signal, Vernon suddenly felt his arms pulled tightly back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Kenny being similarly restrained by Trevors. “I don’t have it!” said Vernon swiftly while not struggling. There was no point fighting to protect the location of a letter that wasn't there and couldn't be easily retrieved.  “I threw it out!” he added.  
          The hold on his arms tightened suddenly; one of his arms twisted up and out and Vernon gasped in pain! Montague stood up and stepped in front of Vernon’s face so they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I don’t believe you!” he announced coldly. The twisting of his arm continued; Vernon squirmed in the grasp vainly attempting to relieve the pressure certain the arm would break any second.  
          “All right!” he gasped. “I sent it to my sister!” There was no reason Montague couldn’t know, if only he would believe him. Abruptly Pittman let go of Vernon and Vernon dropped to the floor.  
          “You mean the crazy one who thinks she’s a witch?” laughed Pittman derisively.  
          Vernon twisted up to look back at Pittman. “Yeah,” Vernon agreed as he rubbed his sore arms. He would have stood, but suddenly felt Pittman’s knobbly stick poke warningly in his back. He could see Trevors, too, who still had Kenny securely in his grasp. It looked to be some sort of wrestler’s hold. Kenny didn’t look in pain, but he couldn’t easily escape, either.  
          Montague knelt down so he was again level with Vernon. “Now why would you do a foolish thing like that?” asked Montague softly.  
          Vernon looked back. “Well, I couldn’t send it to my parents,” he began, “they’d ask too many questions and, uh, it clearly isn’t safe at Smeltings,” he added looking around the mess in his room, the results of Montague’s unsuccessful search. “Now, Holly’s curious about the letter, but I told her it was no big deal and probably nothing and—”  
          “You _told_ her?” interrupted Montague.  
          “Yeah,” replied Vernon. “I wrote her yesterday after she wrote me…”  
          “Your sister hasn’t written you!” Montague stated flatly in disbelief.  
          In response, Vernon leaned over to his school bag that had dropped by his side when Pittman first grabbed his arms. Vernon unzipped the bag and pulled out his literature textbook. Opening it, he removed a tan piece of folded paper he had been using as a bookmark and handed it to Montague. Vernon had found the paper on his desk one morning after breakfast. Neatly written on the outside was Vernon’s name and his room number, his _current_ room number. Bits of sealing wax still clung to the back side of the paper.  
          “It’s blank!” exclaimed Pittman in disbelief as he looked over Montague's shoulder and watched Montague unfold the paper. Of course the paper was blank; Holly’s writing always seemed to vanish after he had read her letters. Vernon figured Montague knew that too. But Montague was sure to recognize Holly’s handwriting on the front and the parchment paper had a distinctive feel which Vernon was certain Montague could not mistake. Montague fingered the paper thoughtfully.  
          “I could write Holly and ask her to return the letter,” Vernon offered taking advantage of the silence. “I’m pretty sure she’d send it back, but, uh, Holly’s kind of unpredictable. I’m not sure what else she might do especially if I request the letter back so soon without a really good explanation…” Vernon let his voice trail off suggestively.  
          “I think he’s not only disrespectful but a liar and a fool if he thinks a piece of blank paper will convince you the letter is not here!” exclaimed Pittman and Vernon felt the knobbly stick dig deeper into his back while one of his arms was yanked painfully up, back and out. Vernon tried unsuccessfully to untwist his arm. “You … could even … watch me … write the letter…” Vernon gasped. He closed his eyes as the pain increased.  
          “Forget it!” said Montague abruptly. The upward twist on Vernon’s arm stopped.  
          “Huh?” asked Pittman, confused.  
          “It isn’t worth the effort,” Montague decided aloud and he stood up. “There’s nothing in the letter anyway. We’ve more important things to do with our time.” He strode over purposefully to Kenny. “You shouldn’t have roomed with this looser,” he told Kenny.  
          “Better than rooming with a bully any day,” Kenny responded promptly.  
          Montague frowned and Trevors tightened his grip while Montague casually reached his hand into Kenny’s back pants pocket and removed Kenny’s wallet. “Are you always this broke?” he asked with disgust as he surveyed the contents of the wallet.  
          “Yeah,” replied Kenny. “Some _thief_   keeps taking it all.”  
          “I’m no thief,” replied Montague righteously as he emptied the wallet and tossed it casually onto the floor. “This is payment for services rendered.”  
          “What service?”  
          “Advance notice of a surprise room inspection tomorrow morning—seven a.m. sharp. I do hope you’re ready for it,” Montague added innocently as he pocketed the money. “I hear there’s some new flavours in the soda shop,” Montague continued speaking to Trevors and Pittman. “Want to try them? Perkins is treating.” Vernon saw Trevors grin at the suggestion. “I’d ask you two along,” Montague added cheerfully while eying Vernon and Kenny with disgust. “But your room’s a mess and needs to be cleaned up first.” With that, Montague reached out with his empty hand, grabbed the edge of the desk and tipped it sideways—the drawers slid open, their contents spilled out onto the floor.  
           Montague then stepped out of the room deliberately stepping on clothing as he went. Trevors released Kenny while shoving him onto the tipped desk. Laughing, Pittman let go of Vernon jabbing him painfully in the back with his knobbly stick one last time before following Trevors out of the room.

*********************

          Vernon surveyed the mess in the room. It was not as bad as the last time, but they hadn’t had a stack of homework to complete before. They would probably have to stay up nearly all night to get everything done. Kenny pulled himself upright, straightened his shirt and then tipped the desk back in place.  
          “I’m uh, sorry about all this,” Vernon began apologetically while picking up a sweater and shaking it out.  
          “You didn’t make the mess,” replied Kenny bluntly as he started refilling a drawer.  
          “But all this is my fault,” protested Vernon. “I thought we’d be safer together. You’d have been better off if—”  
          “We’d be better off if we had a different lock!” interrupted Kenny as he scooped up a collection of pens and pencils and dropped it into a drawer. “You think there’s any chance of changing it without Montague getting hold of the new key?” He pushed the drawer back in place and began to fill another.  
          “We could try, but Montague’s pretty good at picking locks too,” replied Vernon automatically.  
          “Figures,” said Kenny grabbing the lamp and putting it back on the desk.  
          “I’m sorry about this too,” said Vernon as he handed Kenny back his wallet. “Did you loose much? Perhaps I could—”  
          “She’s not crazy, is she?” Kenny asked abruptly.  
          “Huh?” said Vernon disconcerted by the change in topic.  
          “Your sister,” said Kenny. “Pittman said she’s crazy. She’s not crazy is she?”  
          “Of course she isn’t,” replied Vernon firmly. “She’s a little strange,” Vernon admitted as an afterthought, “but not crazy.” Vernon had only told Montague and Trevors she was crazy to sell a fake story about a curse to clear his name two years ago.  
          “So is she really a witch?”  
          Vernon hesitated. He knew almost instinctively he shouldn’t discuss Holly or her peculiar abilities outside the family. But he didn’t want to lie, either. “She told me to say she was a witch to Montague and Trevors to help clear my name,” Vernon finally confessed.  
          “But is she a witch?” persisted Kenny.  
          Vernon didn’t know how to answer. Dad still insisted there was no such thing as wizards or witches—despite Cousin Harry. Could Vernon say the same about Holly? “Maybe,” whispered Vernon without elaborating.  
          “Oh.”  
          The two cleared the floor picking up things in silence and putting them away. Vernon was thankful Kenny didn’t persist with follow-up questions. Then he began to worry. “That doesn’t bother you?” Vernon suddenly asked.  
          “What?”  
          “That my sister might be a, uh, you-know…?” Vernon stopped unable to say the word “witch.”  
          “No,” said Kenny. “Should it?”  
          “Well, yeah,” began Vernon. “I mean witches and things aren’t supposed to exist, you know.”  
          “True,” agreed Kenny, “but I’ve seen a lot of strange things in India and I figure there should be some of that sort of stuff here, too.” And as Kenny spoke it felt as if a huge weight had lifted from Vernon’s shoulders; it was hard keeping secrets from a friend. “I’ve always known your sister was a bit different the way you never talk about her,” continued Kenny. “And after you got that letter from her last week I knew something was up—weird the way it was just there—not even in the post first!”  
          “Yeah, well, I think Cousin Harry delivered that,” confessed Vernon grudgingly. “There was some problem with the mail last year…”  
          “That purple hand bit?” asked Kenny.  
          “Yes,” admitted Vernon, “but I didn’t know about it until much later. I swear! How’d you guess?”  
          “You mentioned it earlier, remember? And Montague kind of “started” when you said you didn’t know what else your sister might do... Your Cousin Harry like Holly?”  
          “Uh, yeah, kind of,” admitted Vernon reluctantly.  
          “Oh. That explains why you never talk about him either,” said Kenny casually as he finished filling a chest drawer with clothes. “There,” he said and plopped down on his bed. “I think that will pass inspection. Now, for the homework.” Kenny pulled out a book and opened it. “You going to tell her what happened?”  
          “No,” replied Vernon. “Holly has enough problems of her own.” Vernon pulled out some of his books and settled down to work. In truth, Holly hadn’t written about any difficulties, but Vernon couldn’t forget the disturbing medical report Cousin Harry had given his parents about her and was certain Holly had left a lot out of her letter. Vernon hoped she was O.K.

********************

          “Are you ready yet?” asked Becky. “We’re all waiting!”  
          “You go on ahead,” said Holly resolutely turning the page of a book. “I’ve decided to not go. I’ll stay here and if I need to go anywhere, I’ll ask somebody still here to go with me…”  
          “You need to get out more,” argued Becky. “Come on, admit it—it wasn’t that bad last time, and we won’t go to _that place_ again, I swear!”  
          Holly gave an involuntary shutter when Becky mentioned _that place_. _That place_ was the Three Broomstick Inn.  
          Holly had immensely enjoyed her first visit to Hogsmeade the previous week browsing at Honeydukes and the other shops. Then they had decided to stop for a drink at the Three Broomstick Inn. It was a popular location filled with students. Holly hadn’t given it a thought when Mickey opened the door letting out a blast of warm butterbeer scented air. The group had to stop to let the other students crowding to get out before Mark and Hugh could file in after Mickey followed by Susan, and then Holly. Holly had barely taken one step inside, glanced casually about and froze mid-step. The floor was littered with numerous butterbeer bottles! The room was filled tables—one huge dark table piled high with dirty dishes interlocked between smaller tables from which student heads and shoulders poked in, out and through!  
          “What? What is it?” asked Becky from behind.  
          Holly gulped and stared transfixed at a room that was somehow also a grubby kitchen in London with counters piled high with unwashed dishes! Dimly she heard Mark say: “It must be a flashback. Get her out of here!” And Holly found herself stumbling down the street of Hogsmeade, bumping into other people. Becky was pulling her along by the elbow and Mark was pushing from behind urging her forward.  
          “Where are we going?” Holly asked pulling back forcing Becky to halt.  
          “Away,” said Becky shortly as she resumed her pull. Then she stopped abruptly. “You O.K. now?” she asked while staring intently in Holly’s face.  
          “Yeah, I guess so,” answered Holly while trying to sort out the feelings within.  
          Mark spun her around. “Look at me!” he commanded.  
          Holly looked while feeling bewildered at the order. “Why?” she asked faintly.  
          “You were having a flashback, right? I could see it in your face,” he continued without waiting for a reply. “But it’s not there now,” he concluded and relaxed. “What did you see?”  
          “Uh, I don’t want to talk about it,” replied Holly wiping away the tears she found in her eyes. Sirius Black didn’t deserve being remembered that way. “Let's get back to the school,” she begged. Hogsmeade had lost all its appeal.

********************

          “Give it one more chance,” pleaded Becky. “That was just one place in Hogsmeade!” she reminded Holly. “You’ll be fine as long as we avoid it,” Becky assured her. “We really want you to come with us. It won’t be the same without you.”  
          Holly sighed. “O.K.” she said reluctantly and closed the book. It was rather boring cooped up in the dorm anyway. Better Hogsmeade than wandering around Hogwarts with a bunch of firsts…  
          Becky smiled happily. “I’ll tell the others,” she announced and left the room.

********************

          The day had turned out pretty much as Becky predicted with no unexpected surprises in the way of flashbacks. When it got around noon Becky pulled out the picnic lunch she had packed and the Hufflepuff group sat out under the trees and watched the Shrieking Shack while they ate. No one said anything but Holly knew they were a little disappointed and she had a good idea why.  
          “Just because I won’t go in there is no reason why the rest of you can’t,” she told the others. “I know the Three Broomstick Inn is a popular spot and you want to go,” she added when Susan started to protest. “I can wait here with someone and the rest of you can go enjoy some butterbeer…” Holly flinched inwardly when she said “butterbeer.” The word made her think of too many other things…  
          “No,” said Mark. “I have a better idea…” He led the group off the main street coming to a stop in front of something called The Hog’s Head.  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly firmly. “That’s an inn,” she added staring at the battered wooden sign that hung from a rusty bracket over the door. “Inns and I don’t agree.” The sign with a painting of a pig’s head leaking blood onto a white cloth gave Holly the creeps.  
          “It’s not The Three Broomsticks,” informed Mark. “That makes it different. Just because it’s an inn isn’t reason enough to keep away. You were in the Leaky Cauldron before school and it wasn’t so bad. Whatever you see won’t be what you saw in the Three Broomsticks and it’s likely to be no big deal.”  
          “Or worse,” predicted Holly glumly.  
          “It looks a bit dodgy,” commented Mickey dubiously.  
          “All the better,” said Mark confidently, “then there’s no chance of duplicating whatever Holly saw before…” and he boldly opened the door. The hinges creaked loudly with the effort. The group was immediately struck by the strong odor similar to a damp barn coming out of the room.  
          “Ewww!” whispered Susan poking her head cautiously inside. The others crowded around the entrance and looked inside as well. The interior looked gloomy and dark. The windows were so dirty they scarcely let in the light. The main lighting seemed to come from the stubby candles sitting on the rough wooden tables.  
          “Well, what do you see?” Mark asked Holly anxiously.  
          “I see a pub! Just a common pub!” said Holly with relief. She pushed through her friends and stepped happily inside.  
          “Uh, if you don’t mind,” began Susan hesitantly from behind Holly, “I think I’ll visit The Three Broomsticks…”  
          “I’m going with you,” said Hugh quickly.  
          “Me too!” piped up Mickey. “See you later!” he added and the three vanished before anyone could object.  
          “Well, we can’t leave Holly,” said Becky giving a longing look towards the direction where Susan and the others had gone. “And you’ve got to stay, too!” Becky told Mark firmly. “This was your idea!” Becky stepped cautiously into the dark smelly room and Mark followed.

********************

          Holly breathed in the warm musty smells and tried to identify the scent while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Animal of some sort but Holly was not sure which. She wasn’t much of a farm person. She could ask Becky but decided it was more diplomatic not to.  
          Once her eyes had adjusted to the gloom Holly could see that the place was as dirty as it had looked at first glance—maybe worse. It might even be worse than the kitchen in Grimmauld place but Holly wasn’t certain about that. At least somebody here picked up the dishes afterwards and, though covered with a thick crust of mud and dirt, Holly couldn’t see a single bottle or glass on the floor. Surprisingly, Holly found she didn’t mind all the filth. She was certain she wouldn’t have any flashbacks here and it was rather nice to be able to reflect upon her memories instead of having them rudely thrust upon her through visual flashbacks.  
          “Where are we sitting?” came Becky’s timid voice. Holly could tell Becky and Mark were very leery about the dark room. And it did look rather sinister with the hooded customers sitting at various tables looking at the trio with obvious suspicion. But Holly had already dropped her block and noted the emotional count matched the number of visible bodies and no one seemed to have any disturbing intents.  
          She also noted that the Potter family—Albus, Rose, James and their friends, sat in one corner of the room. They were all extremely worried and upset; Holly had no doubts why. No matter what he tried, Albus continued to bump and slide into Slytherins. At the moment, the Slytherins were exceedingly angry with him. Albus had somehow slid off his broom and taken a nasty fall while trying to feed the Roc. Worse, he and the broom had collided with the members of the Slytherin quidditch team out practicing for Sunday’s game. Five brooms had snapped and four people, including Albus, had to be sent to the infirmary overnight. A fight had erupted in the infirmary resulting in a detention for Albus and suspension from the next game for everyone involved.  
          The whole incident had landed in the _Daily Prophet_ with the heading _Potter Sabotages Game!_ After describing the accident in meticulous detail, including numerous nasty quotes from Slytherin eyewitness and victims, the _Prophet_ went on to remind the readers that Harry Potter had fallen off his broom during the first quidditch match his third year at Hogwarts thus loosing the game for the Gryffindors. The article finished by commenting “at least Harry Potter managed to injure only himself and destroy his _own_ broom...” implying Albus had done far worse by damaging Slytherin brooms and getting Slytherins suspended.  
          “That’s so unfair!” exclaimed Lynette when she read the account. “Albus can’t help that the Slytherins decided to practice underneath the Roc nest! Professor Hagrid specifically told them not to!”  
          “Um, actually, the Slytherins had been practicing in the quidditch field where they belonged and Albus was overhead making a long-range approach to approximate a Roc returning from a day of hunting food,” corrected Holly gently. She had gotten the whole story from Rose when Rose had brought over a bucket filled with flobberworms to replace the ones they had gotten earlier.  
          “Oh,” said Lynette blankly. “That doesn’t make any difference,” Lynette added loyally. She and the other first and second year students had become much more sympathetic toward Albus since Holly had told her story. “Albus was far too good a broomstick flyer to have “accidently” slipped and fallen that way; it had to have been a spell of some sort.”  
          “That’s true,” agreed Holly. Unfortunately, all her efforts to uncover the real culprit had been unsuccessful. She hoped the Potters were doing better.  
          “Let’s sit at the bar,” suggested Holly bringing her mind back to Becky’s original question. The bar stools and counter looked a little cleaner than the rest of the place. Holly stepped boldly forward, selected a stool and, noting the dirt upon it, quickly brushed the seat off with her sleeve before sitting down. Becky and Mark reluctantly followed suit, selecting their own stools, brushing them off and then sitting down.  
          A withered old man with straggly long gray hair and a coarse gray beard shuffled up to them. He looked like he had been there for ages. “What?” he grunted gruffly.  
          “Um, three butterbeers?” said Mark looking questioningly at Holly and Becky.  
          “Make that two,” said Holly. She was suddenly certain the heavy scent of butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks had triggered that last flashback. “I’ll have a water instead.”  
          “Don’t have bottled water,” grumbled the barman looking at Holly intently with his blue eyes. Suddenly his fairly benign emotions winked off as if he had just recognized Holly and knew she was an Empath.  
          “That’s O.K.,” replied Holly easily. She studied the barman closer. He didn’t look the sort to practice Occlumency. “Tap water will be fine.” Holly suddenly wondered if this grubby inn and barman would have survived the purges Voldemort would have done had he gotten control.  
          Grumbling, the man reached beneath the counter and pulled up two very dusty, very dirty bottles that he slammed on the bar in front of Mark and Becky. “Four sickles,” he announced. Mark and Becky looked at each other dubiously before Mark pulled out the requested amount and placed it on the counter. The barman picked up the coins and deposited them in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Then he twisted some knob under the counter and Holly heard the familiar rumble of a long unused tap. Would the water that eventually came out be rusty and red? Would it taste the same? Holly had been so thirsty at the time. Holly closed her eyes, leaned back and basked in the memories of a bit of unexpected hospitality under dire circumstances.  
          A loud _“clunk”_ brought her thoughts to the present. Holly opened her eyes and beheld a dusty black goblet in front of her filled to the brim with liquid—presumably water. “Two Sickles,” announced the barman flatly. He held out a hand waiting. Without a word Holly fished out the required coins and placed them in his hand. The barman put them in the till and shambled off.  
          Becky and Mark dusted their butterbeer bottles and carefully opened them. “You aren’t seriously planning to drink that are you?” whispered Becky anxiously while looking at Holly’s goblet. “That glass looks like it hasn’t been touched in years!”  
          In response, Holly pulled out an end to her sweater and ran it around the edge of the glass heedless of it getting wet. “Yes,” Holly said firmly. She brought the goblet up to her lips and drank deeply. Water with a hint of rust! Wonderful! “Have you any pasties?” Holly asked suddenly while looking around for the barman. This looked to be the sort of place that would carry something as plain and simple as pasties.  
          “Maybe,” rumbled the barman gruffly from across the room.  
          “Then I’d like one, if you please,” said Holly clearly.  
          “No!” said Becky with sort of a strangled gasp. Holly ignored Becky. She had decided the inn would have still been there in that other world, still serving wizards despite Voldemort and found the thought extremely comforting somehow. Perhaps he would have served Headmaster Snape...  
          The barman stomped back with a small dirty plate. On it was a lone pasty. “Two Sickles,” he said as he banged the plate on the counter causing the pasty to nearly bounce off. Holly handed him the money. The barman eyed the money warily and then looked back at Holly. “Anything else?” he demanded grumpily while he dropped the coins into the till.  
          “Um, yes,” said Holly looking at the pasty and feeling suddenly hungry. “A second one if you please. And more water,” she added. She quickly drained her goblet and handed it to him.  
          The barman took the goblet with a grunt, refilled it and returned it to the counter. He looked at the two sickles Holly had left out on the counter for him, “Water refills’ free,” he mumbled gruffly. He left the two Sickles on the counter untouched and seemed to growl as he went off in search of a second pasty.  
          “Are you out of your mind!” hissed Mark when the barman had left. “There’s dust on that pasty! It looks like it has been around for years!”  
          Ignoring Mark, Holly picked up the pasty on her plate and bit into it. Dry and plain. Odorless meat and potatoes—perhaps a bit more spice than before… Holly took another bite and washed it down with some more rusty water. “Sirius Black,” she began softly so only Becky and Mark could hear. “Gave me breakfast before he sent me to Hogwarts. “Water and pasties. It was all he had yet he shared it without hesitation.” Holly took another bite, swallowed and then continued. “He knew he’d die if he helped me but he did it anyway.” Holly gulped and tried to stop the tears that suddenly flowed to her eyes. “How can people be so selfless and so brave?”  
          Becky found Holly’s hand. “Because he knew it was worth it,” she answered softly and she squeezed Holly’s hand reassuringly. Holly could feel the warmth and love behind the gesture.  
          “And who should know better than you,” added Mark putting his arm warmly on Holly’s shoulder. “To Sirius,” he said lifting his bottle of butterbeer. He clinked it gently against Holly’s goblet and took a gulp.  
          “To Sirius,” repeated Becky. Taking a deep breath, she clinked her bottle against Holly’s goblet and took a drink.  
          “To Sirius,” said Holly solemnly holding up her goblet. The three clinked their glasses against each others’ again and took another drink.  
          The barman returned holding another pasty in his hand. He dropped it unceremoniously on Holly’s plate next to the partially finished one and took the two sickles already on the counter. “More water?” he gruffly asked dropping the sickles in the till.  
          “Yes, please,” replied Holly holding her goblet out to him. He refilled it and then pulled out three bottles from under the counter that were so dusty the labels were unrecognizable. He carried the bottles off to one of the tables.  
          As he moved away, Holly’s attention was attracted to a sudden motion from behind the bar. It came from the picture framed and hanging on the wall. Though the frame looked grubby and dirty, the colours within looked fresh and new. Holly was certain the frame had been empty when they sat down, but now the frame contained a portrait of a young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. The girl would have been very pretty except her expression looked very sad and her eyes wandered back and forth anxiously.  
          “Hello there,” Holly called out to the portrait. “What’s wrong?”  
          “What? Who are you talking to?” asked Mark looking about.  
          “The girl up there,” explained Holly pointing.  
          “That’s a portrait,” said Mark in surprise. “You don’t just talk to portraits!”  
          “I do,” replied Holly. “My name is Holly,” she added politely addressing the girl. “What’s yours?”  
          The girl did not answer but instead examined the edges of the portrait closely.  
          “What are you doing?” asked Becky watching the girl with interest.  
          “Looking for something?” she answered absently in a soft sweet voice.  
          “What?” asked Mark.  
          “Something,” the girl replied vaguely. She started examining her clothing intently. There really wasn’t much in the portrait where something could be hidden.  
          “Perhaps we can help, if we knew what you were looking for.” suggested Holly.  
          “Mustn’t tell,” said the girl as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I promised to not tell,” she added getting more agitated. “I promised to keep it safe! And now I’ve lost it!” The girl dissolved into tears.  
          “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” came the barman’s angry voice. He rushed over to the portrait. “It’s O.K.,” he said soothingly to the girl in the portrait. “I won’t let them bother you any more…” He turned his head and fixed his blue eyes on the three. “I think you’d better leave _now!_ ” he told them sternly.  
          “But we didn’t do anythi…” Mark’s voice trailed off under the old man’s steely gaze.  
          “We’ll be going now,” Holly said swiftly while picking up her uneaten pasty. “Thank you so much for the food,” she added as she stood. “It was terrific.” The barman continued to glare at them wordlessly.  
          Becky and Mark stood as well. “Thank you for the, uh, butterbeer.” added Becky leaving her bottle on the counter with Mark’s. And the three of them hastily left the inn.

********************

          “We were thrown out of the Hog’s Head!” said Mark sounding thoroughly scandalized as they hurried along. “The _Hog’s Head!_ Of all places!” he continued in a rush. “Do you realize the kind of people that frequent that place? And _we_ got thrown out? We’ll never hear the end of it!!!”  
          “It’s only this one time,” said Holly consolingly. They were walking back towards the main street. “I bet we can come back any time if we promise to keep away from the portrait.”  
          “You’re not thinking of going back there are you?” demanded Becky aghast. “That place was stinky and filthy. It isn’t safe!” she added. “From the looks of it, all sorts of scumbags go there!”  
          “The Potters were there,” reminded Holly.  
          “Yeah, well they’re dodging all the other Hogwarts students right now so they’ve got good reason to be there!” said Becky dismissively. “We’re not dodging anyone and we don’t have to go back!”  
          “We do if I return to Hogsmeade,” replied Holly firmly.  
          “What?”  
          “I liked it; the dirt, the grime everything! It was so—real!” Holly began while trying to put her thoughts into words. “There weren’t many people there either so I didn’t have to block. And,” Holly hesitated before continuing, “I had memories there, too. Good memories, real memories, not flashbacks and I want to go back,” she concluded. “I’ve learned there were some things I _want_ to remember.”  
          “This is all your fault!” complained Becky to Mark while they walked.  
          “You know as well as I we had to try,” protested Mark in his own defense. They turned a corner and were back on the main street. Holly could see Susan, Mickey and Hugh outside the Three Broomsticks looking around, obviously waiting for them.  
          “Actually, you really don’t have to go there again,” amended Holly thoughtfully. She could sense they really hadn’t liked the Hog’s Head and felt their immediate relief when she let them off the hook. “The Potters were there,” Holly reminded them. “I’m sure I can get one of them to stay with me the next time we’re in Hogsmeade and save you the trip.”  
          “Never mind,” grumbled Mark. “We managed it once, we can do it again. Besides,” he added grimly, “I know where a book on cleaning spells is…”


	23. Chapter 23

          “Holly? Are you free?” The question came from Prefect Gwen.  
          “Why?” asked Holly suspiciously. The question sounded innocent enough, but the emotions behind it didn’t match and Gwen already knew she was free. They all were. The quidditch match the Hufflepuffs had all cleared their morning schedule for had ended after a mere fifteen minutes!    
          The Slytherins had to replace their suspended seeker and two beaters on short notice. With no chance to practice in advance, the Slytherin team facing the Ravenclaw team was woefully inadequate. Even though Holly didn’t particularly like the Slytherins, she felt a match without a chance to practice seemed rather unfair but the rules made no allowances for last minute changes.  
          Scarcely had the game begun when one of the new Slytherin beaters managed to hit the quaffle straight towards its own substitute seeker Nicholas Adderson. The quaffle missed the Nicholas, but hit his broom breaking it and causing him to tumble out of the sky! In the resulting confusion, Ravenclaw Seeker Daren Azi swooped in and snatched the snitch almost from Nicholas’ nose thus ending the game! Even though it was Daren who caught the snitch, the Slytherins blamed Albus for their loss and were already promising revenge!  
           “I ran into Mrs. Figg,” said Gwen casually bringing Holly’s attention to the original question.  
          “Oh?” Holly immediately tensed up as she always did when Mrs. Figg was mentioned.  
          “Yes, she’d like to invite you to tea…”  
          “Oh, no!” exclaimed Holly. “I’m way too busy for that!”  
          “No you’re not!” chimed in Becky. “I happen to know you’re all caught up with your homework and are a couple chapters ahead in your reading.”  
          “I’ve, uh, got the flobberworms to clean…” began Holly desperately.  
          “Nope!” announced Mark. “You did that yesterday evening, remember? Face it! You’ve run out of excuses!”  
          “Have you been deliberately dodging Mrs. Figg?” questioned Gwen sternly. “She said she was hoping to run into you but hadn’t…”  
          “No!” denied Holly automatically. “Um, maybe…” It had been easy to sense Mrs. Figg in the corridors and back away before actually seeing her.  
          “The one person who took you in as a stranger when you had nothing and now you’re treating her like a pariah?” chided Gwen.  
          “No! Of course not! I would never—” Holly stopped. She’d been so afraid of having flashbacks. It never occurred to her how it might look to Mrs. Figg.  
          “She deserves better than that,” scolded Gwen, “wouldn’t you agree?”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly hanging her head in shame. “I’ll go find her and have a talk with her just as soon as—”  
          “No need for that,” interrupted Gwen briskly. “I knew that was how you’d feel so I’ve already arranged for you to have tea with her today…”  
          “What?” exclaimed Holly in sudden distress. “When?” Talking about seeing Mrs. Figg was a far cry from actually doing it!  
          “In about thirty minutes.”  
          “NO!!!” protested Holly. “I can’t!”  
          “Of course you can!” assured Gwen. “Becky and Susan will be with you,” she added glancing at the two getting their immediate consent. “It’s a ladies tea,” she informed Mark as an aside, “and I fixed it so Sasha can come, too. You’ll be surrounded by friends so you’ve nothing to worry about.”  
          “But—my flashbacks!” exclaimed Holly in a panic. “What if—”  
          “If they happen, they happen,” Gwen said calmly. “I’ve already warned Mrs. Figg you’ve been having some medical problems that might make you act a bit weird so if you start reacting to a flashback she won’t take offense. That should about cover it,” finished Gwen. “And now I think I’d better leave you to get ready as you don’t have much time!”

********************

          Scarce twenty minutes later Holly found herself outside Mrs. Figg’s office door. Becky and Susan had hurried Holly along before she had had a chance to think let alone come up with a way to back out. The two friends had held firmly onto Holly’s elbows and practically pulled her down the stairs all the while Sasha had perched herself on Holly’s shoulder (digging her claws into Holly for balance) and purred loudly in Holly’s ear.  
          Susan knocked on the door while Becky stood just behind Holly holding tight onto her elbow and whispered, “It’ll be all right,” in Holly’s ear. The door opened almost immediately; Mrs. Figg must have been waiting.  
          “Welcome!” greeted a familiar warm friendly voice. Holly kept her eyes glued to the floor. Not looking had worked with Ravindra; hopefully it would work with Mrs. Figg as well.  
          “Hello, Mrs. Figg,” said Susan cheerfully. “How are you?”  
          “Thank you so much for inviting us,” said Becky.  
          Holly felt Becky squeeze her elbow. “Yes, thank you,” mumbled Holly knowing they expected her to say something too. Holly immediately sensed hurt and confusion from Mrs. Figg and felt a surge of guilt knowing Mrs. Figg’s feelings probably stemmed from Holly’s downcast eyes and cold behavior.  
          “Won’t you come in?” Mrs. Figg politely asked. Her voice sounded welcoming but didn’t reflect the feelings Holly sensed.  
          Susan entered eagerly. Holly, propelled forward by Becky, reluctantly stepped inside. Sasha immediately jumped off Holly’s shoulder and joined the other cats that swarmed into the room. Holly welcomed their presence and knelt to greet them—Snowball especially as Snowball was a visible reminder of the here and now.  
          “Ah, my cats are happy to see you,” said Mrs. Figg warmly. “They want to thank you for the beautiful play center you sent them.  
          “You sent them a play center?” questioned Susan.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly while stroking the cats lovingly. “They deserved it.”  
          “It’s over here,” said Mrs. Figg briskly. She moved off towards the right and the cats ran off excitedly in the same direction. Becky and Susan followed and made admiring noises about the center. Holly rose slowly but remained where she was keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. She already knew what the play center was supposed to look like anyway.  
          “Uh, why don’t we all sit down,” said Mrs. Figg after a few minutes. Holly rose reluctantly and followed Mrs. Figg, Becky and Susan to a round table covered with a simple white tablecloth and decorated with a small vase filled with violets. The three girls each drew up a chair and sat down while Mrs. Figg got a tray already filled with a pot and teacups. Holly glanced casually at the tray and froze; on it was a set of delicate looking porcelain teacups decorated with a spray of some small pink flower and a huge matching teapot. Her stomach gave a sudden lurch; Holly bolted from the room and out the door!

********************

          “It’s the same tea set!” Holly exclaimed to Becky in a whisper when she finally got control of herself again. “How could it be the same set? I never thought about that! It was holding the tea Mrs. Figg gave me that first day!” Holly moaned. “Tea! And she’s serving tea again! I can’t do this, Becky! Make my excuses for me will you?”  
          “I will not make excuses for you!” said Becky firmly. “You _can_ go back in there,” she told Holly, “and you _will!_   It’ll be O.K.,” Becky assured Holly. “You’ll see. Remember everything was better for you after you spoke with Ravindra? It’ll be all better for you after today, I know it.” Becky spoke with conviction. She pulled out her wand and muttered a swift spell to clean up the mess on the corridor floor.  
          “But, the teacups!” wailed Holly.  
          “You only threw up the first time you heard Pettigrew,” reminded Becky. “You just weren’t expecting the teacups, but now you know so it won’t happen again. Your stomach’s empty now anyway. Come on,” she encouraged drawing Holly back to the office door. “You can do this!”  
          Holly swallowed and tried to ignore the hard knot in her stomach as she let Becky lead her back inside.  
          “Sorry,” mumbled Holly once she was again in the room in front of Mrs. Figg. “Something didn’t agree with me.” That was true enough.  
          “Perhaps we could do this some other time,” said Mrs. Figg. Her hurt and confusion was replaced with true concern for Holly.  
          “No,” assured Holly. “I want to stay,” she lied and then added. “I’ll be O.K.,” which she hoped was true. Holly reluctantly sat down in her chair again. The knot in her stomach seemed to tighten even more as she did so. Tea had already been served and a familiar porcelain cup sat neatly on the table in front of where she was sitting. Holly’s stomach lurched again but she kept it under control and quickly averting her eyes staring instead at Sasha and Snowball. They were both rubbing themselves against Holly’s legs while purring loudly. The two cats were a constant reminder of the present and Holly clung to that thought desperately. She sat uncomfortably in the chair, hunched over and tugged at the hem of her shirt nervously. Holly wasn’t sure she should be there, didn’t have Becky’s faith that things would turn out O.K., but knew she had to do something to stop the flashbacks.  
          “Very well,” said Mrs. Figg calmly. “Would you like sugar or cream?” Like a true hostess, Mrs. Figg continued serving the tea acting as if Holly’s abrupt departure, return and other odd behavior had never occurred.  
          “No, thank you,” Holly whispered and cautiously unblocked; she was seeking with all her senses what? Holly didn’t know but hoped she could figure it out. This Mrs. Figg was similar yet different from the one she had met during the summer; they were both kind and friendly, but the overwhelming fear wasn’t there. They could be two separate people and Holly longed to merge them into one—to convince herself that the summer experience could never happen again because that world no longer existed.  
          “Some cream, please,” said Becky from next to Holly. Holly heard the sounds of the cream being poured and that of stirring spoons afterwards. There hadn’t been any cream or sugar that last time. “Uh, Holly mentioned that you used to live next to Harry Potter when he was growing up…” said Becky after a moment. She was clearly trying to start a conversation.  
          “Oh my yes, I was!” confirmed Mrs. Figg proudly.  
          “That must have been quite an honor!” said Susan joining in. “You were very lucky.”  
          “It wasn’t anything like that,” said Mrs. Figg informatively. “I was there on business!”  
          “You were?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “What kind of business?”  
          “Well, it was right after James and Lily Potter were killed,” began Mrs. Figg. “Albus Dumbledore had placed young Harry into the care of his Aunt and Uncle and then, that very night, he came to me!”  
          “Really?” asked Susan.  
          “Why?” added Becky.  
          The dishes clinked loudly before Mrs. Figg began to speak. “Arabella?” he said to me, “I need your help.” “Doing what?” I asked,” continued Mrs. Figg. “I mean what would a great wizard like Albus Dumbledore need with a person like me? And he said: “I want you to live next to the Dursleys and keep an eye on young Harry.” “But he’s got the Dursleys to take care of him I protested.” That was your grandparents’ name, dear,” Mrs. Figg added to Holly as an aside. “And he said: “The Dursleys are Muggles, and I fear young Harry has many powerful enemies—enemies no Muggle could withstand...” “But surely you’ve put some protection spells around the family and house?” I asked him,” said Mrs. Figg continuing her narrative. “I have indeed, “ he replied. “But spells are not people. I need someone to keep an eye on things and let me know should something unusual happen.” “But you need a wizard for that!” I exclaimed. “Not a squib like me!” continued Mrs. Figg. “No,” said Dumbledore. “I want someone unexpected—a resourceful person wise in wizard ways but beneath the notice of Harry’s enemies. I want _you!_ ”  
          Holly felt the tears well up in her eyes. Mrs. Figg had been with Dumbledore in that other world when the house had vanished and had told him immediately when the tree had blown up. Those orders had been given long before Cousin Harry had “died.” Even then Dumbledore was making plans for the unexpected.  
          “…How could I say “no?” finished Mrs. Figg. Holly heard the clink of a spoon on a saucer and then Mrs. Figg spoke again. “And so Dumbledore found a suitable house near the Dursleys and I moved in before the end of the week.”  
          “Wow!” said Susan admiringly. “So you got to watch him grow up?”  
          “I did more than that, dear,” said Mrs. Figg proudly. “I made friends with the Dursleys—well, how better to keep an eye on things—and they let me baby-sit young Harry from time to time! 'Course, he didn’t look much like a hero in those days…”  
          “You baby-sat him!” exclaimed Susan really impressed. “Wait’ll I tell Lynette!”  
          “Did you ever think what might have happened if Cousin Harry, uh, Harry Potter had died?” interrupted Holly suddenly.  
          “No, dear,” replied Mrs. Figg firmly, “not once.”  
          “Why not?” asked Becky.  
          “Because he was protected by Dumbledore,” Mrs. Figg said simply. Then she added, “Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of his age—the greatest wizard ever, as far as I‘m concerned. How could Harry fail when he had Dumbledore’s support?”  
          There it was! That unswerving faith in Dumbledore! Though she hadn’t known Holly, Mrs. Figg’s faith in Dumbledore was so strong that she was confident Holly could do whatever task he had set before her. That confidence had inspired Holly and given her the will to continue during the summer. This Mrs. Figg and that Mrs. Figg were one and the same!  
          “Mind you, I did have my doubts when that dementor came visiting,” continued Mrs. Figg reflecting, “but young as he was, Harry was up to the challenge and cast a perfect Patronus spell! Not many can do that, you know—especially at his age! Course, I had to help him take his cousin back home—Oh my, that would be your father, dear, he was pretty shook up from the ex—”  
          “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean!” blurted Holly suddenly while keeping her eyes fixed on her lap.  
          “What? You haven’t been mean,” exclaimed Mrs. Figg.  
          “I’ve been avoiding you,” began Holly explaining. “I’ve been so scared…”  
          “There’s nothing to be afraid of, dear,” said Mrs. Figg soothingly.  
          “But there was,” protested Holly still keeping her head down. “Something happened to me this summer, something terrible—but you helped me and it all turned out O.K.; it turned out so well that you don’t even remember helping me or it happened in the first place, only I do…”  
          “Ah, that is the way of magic,” said Mrs. Figg knowingly and she reached out and grasped Holly’s hand.  
          Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Holly clutched the hand. “Can you ever forgive me?” she begged.  
          “There is nothing to forgive.” And Holly could feel a wave of affection emanate from Mrs. Figg.  
          “Thank you,” whispered Holly with tears streaming down her eyes. “Thank you for everything!”  
          “I’m glad I could help,” said Mrs. Figg warmly. “Is that how you knew about the photo?” Holly rubbed the tears from her face, sniffed and nodded.  
          “What photo?” asked Susan immediately interested.  
          “The one of Harry,” replied Mrs. Figg without hesitation.  
          “Harry? Harry Potter?” asked Becky. “You’ve a photo of Harry Potter?”  
          “Yes, would you like to see it?”  
          “Oh, yes, please,” chimed in both Becky and Susan.  
          And Holly heard the sound of a chair pushing back and then steps as Mrs. Figg left the table and walked off. A short time later, Holly heard her return. When she cautiously opened her eyes, Holly saw a familiar red photo album on the table. She saw two albums, actually. They looked exactly alike but one was slightly misaligned with the other. It was like seeing in double vision. Mrs. Figg’s hands carefully turned the cream colored pages, of one book and Holly saw four hands, two sets of pages turn. The page turning stopped at the photo of a huge cat being held by a small boy. As Holly stared and tried to focus, the photos and books seemed to merge together into one and Holly easily read the caption: “Baby, 1985.” The knot within Holly seemed to loosen a bit.  
          Holly sat back and listened to the conversation surrounding her. “That’s really Harry Potter!” exclaimed Susan in disbelief. “But he’s so little!”  
          “And thin!” added Becky.  
          “He was,” agreed Mrs. Figg cheerfully. “That growth spurt of his didn’t happen until much later.” What followed were several stories about Harry Potter as a toddler and a boy as Mrs. Figg recounted her babysitting days. The knot unwound a bit more as Holly suddenly realized no one talked of lopping off the head in the photo… Last time Mrs. Figg had been so afraid the possession of even a faded photo of someone long dead would get her in trouble…  
          Holly glanced hesitantly at her cup of tea. Its cheery pink flowers no longer seemed to cause her discomfort. “This is a beautiful tea cup,” she said softly while picking it up carefully.  
          “You like it?” asked Mrs. Figg. “It was my mother’s. I only use it for special occasions.”  
          Special occasions. Mrs. Figg had shared it with a stranger she had scarcely met! Holly felt the tears streaming down her eyes. “I’m honored,” she told Mrs. Figg sincerely and for the first time Holly ventured to raise her eyes and look at Mrs. Figg. Small sausage sized curlers covered over by a hairnet obscured her neatly brushed hair. A faded patched scarf tied in a knot at her throat covered most of the curlers. Wisps of gray hair poked out from under the scarf. The whole ensemble looked fake somehow, much like a wig.  
          “It was my pleasure, dear,” said Mrs. Figg warmly meeting Holly’s green eyes with her blue ones. There were a lot more lines in her face than Holly remembered—even from the summer. Some of them had to be flashback lines as they seemed to waver with the curlers and scarf as Mrs. Figg’s head moved. “Perhaps you could come again sometime, dinner, perhaps,” she added.  
          “Cabbage soup?” blurted Holly without thinking.  
          Mrs. Figg laughed. It was such an easy free laugh that the curlers and scarf seemed to shake off and vanish as her head shook with mirth. “Oh my, it’s been ages since I last fixed cabbage soup. Would you like cabbage soup?”  
          “Perhaps,” replied Holly cautiously. “If you don’t put mustard in it.”  
          Mrs. Figg laughed again. The extra wrinkles on her face melted away; she looked years younger without the fear. “Now why would I ever put mustard in my cabbage soup?”  
          The knot within Holly vanished completely and Holly thoughtfully regarded the person in front of her, a single person—no longer a blurry composite. “No reason,” she answered softly and took a sip of tea. “No reason at all.”

********************

          “…and Professor Hagrid has sent word that the Roc naming contest has ended; the bird’s name is now “Tweedy Bird!”  
          “Tweedy Bird!” exploded Mark. “What kind of name is that?” They were all seated together at their weekly House meeting. “Have you seen its talons?” Mark continued in a non-stop rant. “They’re positively lethal! And its beak! That thing snaps mutton leg bones when it’s bored!” Of course, only the students taking Care of Magical Creatures had actually seen the Roc, were permitted to see it and then only while wearing the “Parent” Roc costume.  
          “Last time,” added Mark, “it practically attacked me to get the food! And I won’t even mention the mess at the base of the nest we’ve been having to clean up!” Though no one could see the Roc, no one could miss the piles of gray-white bird poop at the base of the nest. It wasn’t only white snow that fell from the sky these days. Everything had to be scooped up and bagged for medicinal and herbal purposes! There were bags of Roc poop stacked up besides the greenhouse. “That name is a joke!!! It should—”  
          “That name earned the Hufflepuffs 5 House points!” interrupted Prefect Gwen calmly. That silenced Mark and everyone looked from Mark to the other Hufflepuff students in the Creatures class. Only students from the class had been permitted to submit names so it had to be a Hufflepuff submission to earn them the points.  
          The origin of the name was easily identified. Becky’s cheeks were redder than a beet and she looked down in total embarrassment. “Professor Hagrid said he would choose a name from among the ones submitted,” she began hesitantly. “He didn’t say it would be a drawing… Holly and I were talking about the shows we missed on the tube one day and, um, I know it doesn’t fit the bird, but I just figured it was the kind of name Professor Hagrid would like…”  
          “And it seems you were right!” agreed Eddie Shunpike with a laugh. “Well done!” Becky blushed again as the group applauded.  
          “Moving on,” said Gwen changing the subject, “next week’s of homework assignments for Professor Binn’s class is posted on the bulletin board and Quidditch practice will be tomorrow at 9:00a.m. sharp. That’s all I have for tonight,” she concluded. “Is there anything else?”  
          “Maybe…” said Holly tentatively.  
          “Yes?”  
          “Well, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for the longest time now…”

********************

          Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at the breakfast table surveying the students in the Great Hall. It had been a relatively quiet week and promised to be a quiet weekend as well. That was fortunate, as she had just received a last minute request for a meeting at the Ministry.  
          Professor Luna Lovegood, set her fork down, placed her napkin on the table and rose to begin her work for the day. If Minerva remembered correctly, she had a special meeting with the Auror students. Professor Erlinda Iverson rose from her place at the table, came over and sat down in the now vacant seat next to Minerva. She was very tall and thin and could move as quietly as a cat when she wanted to. Her mottled brown and orange robe seemed to shimmer in the morning light.  
          “I’ve just received a rather unusual request from Prefect Feinstein,” she began quietly after taking a sip of tea from the teacup she had brought with her.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes, one of the Hufflepuff students wishes to speak privately with you for a few minutes…”  
          “Really?” Students rarely requested to speak with the Headmistress. In fact, Minerva couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. “Do you know what this is about?”  
          Professor Iverson took another sip before speaking. “Miss Feinstein wouldn’t say, but she gave the impression it was rather important—not urgent, mind you, but important.”  
          “Indeed? That sounds very mysterious.”  
          “Yes,” agreed Erlinda looking down at Minerva with her brown eyes, “but then the student who wishes to speak with you is Miss Wycliff. She seems to abound with mystery this year so I thought it best to relay the request without inquiring too deeply…”  
          “Of course,” agreed Minerva. The urgent owl arriving from Healer Winonan at the beginning of the school year carrying all sorts of instructions and restrictions for Holly without any explanation had taken them all by surprise. Minerva had immediately written Harry about it. His response had been brief but chilling: _There was another plaque,_ he had written _and Holly has not yet recovered from its effects._ That was enough to cause Minerva to encourage the professors to do whatever necessary to accommodate the medical needs of Holly.  
          Minerva well remembered the plaque two years previous and the _Time Reverse Curse_ it had released. That it should have happened again was unimaginable. Professor Longbottom’s report of the first night and Professor Lovegood’s additional wand practice restrictions had been very disquieting but for the most part, it appeared that whatever difficulties Holly was experiencing did not seriously interfere with class work. Minerva briefly wondered if the request for a visit was related to Holly medical problems but decided against that as such a request would surely have been forwarded through Madam Pomfrey or Healer Winonan.  
          “I’ve a meeting with the Ministry today,” Minerva told Erlinda. Perhaps Miss Wycliff could accompany me back to the office and we could talk along the way…”  
          “Up the stairs?” asked Erlinda bluntly.  
          “Um, no, perhaps not,” agreed Minerva thoughtfully. Holly did seem to have a terrible time going up the stairs these days. Were the Slytherins not so busy harassing Albus they would have surely noticed and teased Holly instead.  
          She looked down at the students in the Great Hall. Holly sat on the far end where the scent of the curry she enjoyed eating would least disturb the other students. Like the rest of the Hufflepuff students, Holly had her head down and appeared to be industriously eating. It wasn’t normal for students to eat like that. Only the Hufflepuffs were eating that way. They were no doubt feigning interest in their food attempting to hide their real interest: Minerva’s response to Erlinda’s request. That meant this was a group-approved, group-sponsored endeavor, which was the way the Hufflepuffs usually worked.  
          “Perhaps I could go to the Chamber of Reception for a while and she could meet me there…” Minerva mused out loud. The Chamber was a small annex near the Entrance Hall and used to receive the new students before they were sorted.  
          “When?” asked Erlinda promptly.  
          “Five-ten minutes? I hate to rush the time,” added Minerva, “but I’ve other commitments today and I don’t know when I’ll next be available…”  
          “I’m sure that will be fine,” assured Erlinda. She rose gracefully from the seat and made her way down the stairs to exit the Hall. Minerva saw her pause briefly to talk with Prefect Feinstein on her way out.  
          _“That would be my cue,”_ thought Minerva. She rose and walked down the stairs, through the hall and made her way to the annex. It was a small chair-less room that looked even smaller when all the first year students were crowded into it but it would do fine for their purposes.  
          Minerva entered the room and closed the door. It seemed rather foolish to stand and wait in the empty room so pulling out her wand, Minerva caused two straight-backed chairs with armrests to materialize and then promptly sat down in one.  
          A moment later a soft knock sounded at the door. Five minutes exactly! Holly was definitely eager to talk with her. Minerva called out, “Enter!” The huge door creaked open and Holly stepped into the room closing the door behind her. Her long blonde hair was neatly brushed back and held in place with a pink plumeria flower hair clip. Her wide green eyes looked curiously around the room and Minerva recalled that it was Holly’s first time in the annex as she had been sorted while sitting in Minerva’s office.  
          “Have a seat,” suggested Minerva indicating the other chair. Holly moved quietly to the chair. She sat down and looked timidly at Minerva.  
          “You wished to speak with me?” encouraged Minerva.  
          “Yes.” Minerva waited. Eventually Holly continued. “Um, I have a favor to ask of you…” she began hesitantly.  
          “Yes?”  
          “Could I, uh, would it be possible for me to spend some time your office _alone_?”  
          “My office?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Why would you wish to do that?”  
          Holly looked down, clearly embarrassed. “There’s someone I want to talk to…” she answered softly. Her voice trailed off as if suddenly realizing the inconsistency in her words: if she were “alone” in the office there would be no one else _to_ talk to...not really.  
          Minerva narrowed her eyes. Holly wanted to talk to the portraits! “Why?” Minerva asked bluntly.  
          Holly started tugging nervously at the hem in her shirt. “Because,” she mumbled, “because I want to thank _him!_ ”  
          “He’s not the one!” argued Minerva. She had no doubt which portrait Holly wished to “thank.” Minerva well remembered how Holly and Albus had cried over the sacrifice and “death” of Headmaster Snape two years earlier. Harry Potter’s letter implied Holly had visited the Riddle world again. Obviously, she had encountered Snape a second time… “That one is dead,” Minerva reminded. Holly's shoulders started to heave up and down in silent sobs. “Your efforts would be misplaced,” continued Minerva more gently. “The one here doesn’t know you and certainly has no idea why you might wish to “thank” him.”  
          “I know he’s dead,” the girl replied between sobs. “I know it’s not the right one—but it’s all I have! I’ve _got_ to talk with him, to tell him—let him know how I feel…I owe him so much!”  
          Minerva sighed. It was a rather unusual request and probably doomed to failure knowing Snape. But considering all that Holly had gone through, it wasn’t much to ask in return. Besides, the portraits were complaining that they couldn’t sleep properly when Minerva was out—something about unexplained noises that kept on happening. This time they’d have a reason to stay awake.  
          “Well, I’ll think about it,” said Minerva non-committally. She could never officially “approve” an unescorted visit to her office. Word might get out and students did not belong there. Minerva stood. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go.” Holly hastily wiped off her eyes and stood as well. She bit her lips and looked down clearly disappointed. “I’ve a meeting today with the Ministry in about 20 minutes,” continued Minerva as she started towards the door. “I’m not exactly sure when I’ll be back,” she added thoughtfully, “but possibly sometime around noon, maybe later…” Minerva turned the handle and pulled the heavy door causing it to creak loudly as it swung open. She noted Mr. Owens and Miss Smith waiting just outside the door. They both hastily stood at her appearance. Minerva took a step forward then added over her shoulder, “the password’s “Himalayan.” Without looking back, she swept out of the room, nodded at the two Hufflepuffs as she passed and continued on down the hall.  
          Minerva had not specifically denied the request. Holly would surely guess that a freely given password and a suggested time to visit, one when Minerva would be “away” from the office, constituted “unofficial” approval. Minerva doubted any harm would come of the visit. On her way out, Minerva planned to instruct the gargoyles to open just one more time using that particular password and then designate a new password to begin use upon her return.

********************           

          “Are you sure about this?” asked Becky worriedly as they hurried down the corridor.  
          “Yes!” said Holly confidently while she tried to ignore the annoying whiney voice in her head.  
          “But she didn’t specifically _say_ you could, did she?”  
          “No,” admitted Holly. “She said she’d “think” about it.” Petigrew's words in her head were hard to ignore, even more so as they were unfamiliar. Holly hadn’t gone down this particular corridor since the summer.  
          “So shouldn’t you wait until she’s done _thinking?”_ persisted Becky.  
          “She would have never been done _thinking,”_ observed Mark from Holly’s other side. “Thinking about it” is a standard dodge when you don’t want to give an answer.”  
          “So then she really meant “no!” argued Becky.  
          “If she had meant “no” she would have said so,” reasoned Holly stubbornly. They rounded a corner and continued walking.  
 _“Just a little longer,”_ encouraged Pettigrew’s voice.  
          “So she really meant, “yes,” added Holly talking to her friends over the voice in her head. For once she and Pettigrew were in agreement. Holly couldn’t wait to get up the stairs either, all the way up.  
          “She couldn’t have actually said, “yes,” Mark explained further. “You don’t just give permission for students to tramp around your office in your absence…”  
          “So you really don’t know for sure, do you?” persisted Becky.  
          “No,” admitted Holly, “but she gave me the password. Why else would she have done that?”  
          “Maybe it’s a password for someplace else…”  
          “Well, we’ll know soon enough,” said Mark. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose as the trio stopped in front of an imposing looking stone gargoyle at the end of the hall.  
          Pettigrew’s voice fell silent also. Then he said, _“Venomous Viper!”_  
          “This is your project,” Holly heard Mark say in the silence that followed. “You do the honors.”  
          Holly stepped forward and said loudly, “Himalayan!” The gargoyle sprang to life. It leapt aside and the wall behind it split in two.  
          “Woah!” said Mark clearly impressed. He'd never been to the Headmistress’ office before or seen the gargoyle in action.   
          “You sure you want to do this alone?” Becky questioned worriedly as she and Mark looked at the moving stone staircase now showing in the wall. It moved continuously upward like a spiral escalator. Though Holly hadn’t mentioned she’d been listening to Pettigrew all down the corridor she was certain both Mark and Becky couldn’t help but see Holly’s glazed eyes as she tried to concentrate on them while ignoring the unwanted words in her head.  
          “I’m sure,” Holly replied confidently while stepping eagerly forward. It was just a little farther. The voice in Holly's head said eagerly, _“Just another few steps, Missy. You can do it!”_ “There’s nothing to scare me up there,” Holly assured her friends aloud while ignoring Pettigrew's voice.  
          “Nothing up there maybe,” muttered Mark, “just along the way…”  
          “Look,” began Holly. “I hear Pettigrew every day. He’s annoying but not incapacitating." Holly was certain she could tolerate Pettigrew alone for a while.  "Besides, the stairs turn on their own,” she pointed out, ”so I don’t even have to worry about walking. Perhaps,” Holly added hopefully, “if I let Pettigrew complete his trip up the stairs, give him a chance to finish his monologue, then maybe he’ll quit talking in my head…”  
          “But you’re breaking Winonan’s rules!” reminded Becky worriedly.  
          “Then I’ll get suspended or kicked out but I’ll have done this first. I _have_ to do this, Becky," Holly insisted, "no matter what!  And I've got to do it alone!” Without waiting for a reply, Holly placed her foot on the first moving step. All she had to do was get on it and let the stairs do the rest. Then, despite Pettigrew, Holly could focus all her energy on her final goal. “Wait for me here,” she called out as the wall closed behind her with a thud.


	24. Chapter 24

          Holly moved upward in tightly spiraling circles until she reached a highly polished oak door with a shiny brass knocker shaped like a griffin. The door had been left ajar, further proof as far as Holly was concerned, that the Headmistress supported this venture. _“Almost there, now!”_ Pettigrew’s eager voice chimed in her head while Holly touched the huge door. Holly closed her eyes, pushed and the door opened wider. She stepped inside and Pettigrew’s voice stopped. The silence seemed sudden and abrupt. Holly drew a breath of relief embracing the silence. It was only after the door closed behind her with a resounding _“clunk”_ that Holly began to have second thoughts.  
          She found the portrait she wanted immediately. But his face was turned to the side, a profile that did not look at her. It seemed frozen in one position like a regular portrait from the Muggle world. Strands of dark black hair hung down untidily over the sallow skin. The face was stern and the black eyes forbidding. Nearby was the portrait of an old wizard with long white hair who was seated in a comfortable chair. Holly knew it was a portrait of Albus Dumbledore. His portrait seemed to be deep in sleep as were the other portraits in the room. One frame had no person inside at all. That one should have contained the portrait of Phineas Black. Holly had seen him there on other occasions in both worlds.  
          Holly stepped up to the wall to face the portrait of Headmaster Snape. It was just a bit above her head.  
          “Hello?” she spoke hesitantly while looking at it. “Headmaster Snape, sir, do you hear me?” The image in the portrait remained frozen in place. Despite it’s Muggle like behavior, Holly knew the image could move. She’d seen his face seem to sneer at her once before. “Please!” Holly begged. “Won’t you look at me?” But there was no movement, no response. Holly looked around at the other portraits. Maybe they’d help. But they all seemed deep in sleep, or absent. Dumbledore started to snore rather loudly. Holly was certain they were aware of her presence and were pretending otherwise. She briefly wondered if Headmistress McGonagall told them to ignore her but discarded the idea. The headmistress didn’t seem like that kind of person.  
           Holly sighed in disappointment. This was not turning into the visit she had imagined. “Right!” she said to herself with determination. “I came here to thank you and that’s what I’m going to do whether you want me to or not!” Holly looked again at the portrait. “Mr. Headmaster, Headmaster Snape, sir,” she began with determination. “I know you can hear me because, well, just because, so I’m gonna’ talk anyway.” Holly stared hopefully at the portrait for any sign of movement but there was none. She took a deep breath and continued.  
          “My name is Holly Wycliff and I came here just to see you. Actually,” she amended, “I wanted to talk to you, to thank you.” Holly paused again in the hopes that the image in the frame would respond but it remained cold and motionless. “You see,” she continued explaining, “I know you don’t know me, but I know you, sort of, and you helped me. No, you did more than that; you saved my life—twice! Even when you knew it would mean…” Holly trailed off remembering. Then she started again. “I know you don’t know any of this, cause it wasn’t really you—I mean it was you but not _you_ you—the you _here_ that did it. It’s kind of confusing,” Holly confessed in reflection, “but the bottom line is that I owe everything to you. And, um, I just—just wanted to tell you, and um, thank you.”  
          Holly looked around and then back at the portrait in front of her. Some of the other portraits had shifted positions and abandoned their appearance of sleep, but not the Headmaster—not the one she most wanted to answer. Holly looked down and took another deep breath. “Also,” she added more softly, “I wanted to return something, something that’s yours. I don’t think I need it any more, you see,” Holly explained reaching for the case at her waist, “and I know it means a lot to you…” Holly drew out the wand and held it up for the portrait to see. But the head never moved. Holly sighed. “I’ll uh, just put it back where it belongs,” she told the portrait, “and then I won’t bother you any more…”  
          Holly walked over to the heavy desk. She pointed the wand at it and said, _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_   The desk rose up into the air. Holly pointed her wand and caused the desk to shift and land gently less than a meter from its original position. She knelt where the desk had been and lifted a small cut rectangular segment of the rug setting it to one side. Then she dug her fingers into a crack in the floorboard and began to pull up the piece of polished floorboard beneath.  
          “Let me see that wand!” commanded a familiar voice suddenly. Holly jumped at the unexpected sound. She abandoned her work at the floorboard and immediately brought the wand back to the portrait. This time the Headmaster had turned his head to the front. “Closer!” he ordered and Holly held the wand up high in front of the portrait. “Turn it!” he directed as he intently scrutinized the wand. Holly complied turning the wand slowly around.  
          “Is that it?” inquired the portrait of Dumbledore.  
          “Where did you get it?” demanded the portrait of Headmaster Snape his piercing black eyes looking down at Holly for the first time.  
          “From you,” replied Holly simply.  
          “I never!” retorted Headmaster Snape angrily.  
          “But you did,” insisted Holly. “It was an older you, but it _was_ you. There’s no other Headmaster Snape.”  
          “How else would she know where it was kept, Severus?” asked the Dumbledore portrait. “Not even Minerva knew that.”  
          “When?” questioned Headmaster Snape ignoring Dumbledore. Black strands of hair fell over his forehead; his eyes flashed angrily.  
          “Two years ago when I was a first year. And then again last summer…" Holly told him. "That’s why I’ve been wanting to talk with you… I owe you so much!”  
          “That couldn’t be me! I’m dead!”  
          “I know,” acknowledged Holly sorrowfully, “but you weren’t when I met you—you weren’t during the curse…”  
          “What curse?”  
          “It was a _Time Reverse Curse_ ,” explained Holly. “And everyone was dead, everyone except you. And you figured it out and helped me break the curse even though—even though you knew what would happen to you here…” Holly looked down and silently fought back the tears that had suddenly come to her eyes. The room fell into silence.  
          “I don’t think this is a schoolgirl prank, Severus,” said the voice of Albus Dumbledore. “You must forgive my colleague,” the voice continued kindly, obviously speaking to Holly, “but most of the students we encounter coming in here alone do so on a bet or dare. We try to discourage such activities…”  
          Holly’s eyes flew open and widened at the suggestion. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I would never _ever_   tease about this, and especially not to you, sir,” she added sincerely looking directly at the portrait of Headmaster Snape. “Never to you.”  
          There was another long stretch of silence and then the headmaster commanded, “Come closer! I want to see your eyes.”  
          Holly obligingly dragged one of the chairs close to the wall so it was under the portrait.  Then she climbed onto it and stood so she was face to face to the portrait. Holly looked directly into the eyes of Headmaster Snape and he looked back. His eyes were inky black and held none of the life of the real Headmaster but there was a spark of, something, about them. Finally, the headmaster spoke, “Are you related to— _her?”_  
          Holly shivered. “Yes, sir,” she replied softly not asking for further explanation. “She was my great aunt.”  
          “She didn’t need to ask who “her” was,” came the voice of Dumbledore. Both Holly and Headmaster Snape looked at his portrait. Dumbledore was leaning back comfortably in his chair with his eyes closed, fingers clasped together. He opened his eyes and looked over at the portrait of Headmaster Snape. “And I’d wager she also knows who once owned that wand…”  
           The Headmaster Snape swung his head back towards Holly. Dark locks of hair again fell over his eyes. “Well?” he demanded angrily while staring at her. “Do you?”  
          “Y-yes, sir,” replied Holly, her voice trembling a bit. She looked at the wand and then at the Headmaster. He stared at her, waiting. Holly gulped and continued, “It was—it was _hers!”_   She didn’t think she should mention Lily by name. It was still his secret.  
          “Who alive knows _that?”_ questioned Albus Dumbledore gently. Holly looked again at the painting of Dumbledore.  
          “Keep the wand!” said Headmaster Snape abruptly.  
          “What? Oh, no! I couldn’t do that!” exclaimed Holly immediately. “It’s yours! You should have it!”  
          “It does no good sitting under the floorboards,” retorted the headmaster.  
          “But I don’t need it anymore,” protested Holly. “I’ve my own wand.”  
          “I suspect you can use it more than I,” replied Headmaster Snape dryly. He brushed the hair from his eyes and looked at her directly. He no longer looked so angry.  
          “I, uh…” Holly looked uncertainly from the Headmaster down to the wand in her hands and then back at the headmaster who wasn’t really the headmaster but only a painting in a frame. “I suppose you’re right about that…”  
          “Yes, I am,” confirmed Headmaster Snape leaning back in his chair. “And I think McGonagall would appreciate her desk being returned to its place…”  
          “What? Oh, yes,” said Holly self-consciously. She jumped off the chair and hastily returned the piece of carpet to its place.  Then she held out her wand and took two steps backwards. _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ Holly shouted as she pointed the wand at the desk. It rose gently and she directed the heavy desk to land in its original rug indentations.  
          “An interesting use of Wingardium Leviosa,” commented the Albus Dumbledore portrait.  
          “Some of those other moving spells are pretty forceful,” replied Holly. “I didn’t want to disturb anything and I’ve had a lot of practice with that spell. I need to thank you, too,” Holly added looking up at the Dumbledore portrait.  
          “Me?” The Dumbledore portrait looked rather surprised.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly. “You figured it all out too, or at least enough to tell Mrs. Figg to wait for me and I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been there for me that first day,” she added explaining. “And you left me the invisible cloak too—I couldn’t have managed without it, so, uh, thank you.”  
          “Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” replied Dumbledore.  
          “Hummrrp!” snorted the Headmaster Snape portrait.  
          “But all that would have been for nothing if it hadn’t been for you!” Holly quickly added.  
          “I do believe she likes you!” came the amused voice of Dumbledore.  
          “Oh, I do!” exclaimed Holly. “I think you’re the kindest, most wonderful courageous, honorable person I have ever met! And I’m not just guessing about that!” she continued. “I’m an Empath, you know, and you let me feel your emotions last time, all of them!”  
          “I did?”  
          “Yes. You said you wanted me to remember you as you were and I do—everything!” Holly’s eyes were shining, glistening with tears, in remembrance. Then she frowned. “Cousin Harry says you killed Dumbledore,” Holly began hesitantly. “I know he believes that,” Holly continued swiftly, “but I know you—and he has to be mistaken somehow. You couldn’t have done anything like that!”  
          Holly looked up at the portrait. To her amazement, the portrait of Headmaster Snape was again frozen in one position, the head turned to the side. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Holly instantly distressed. “I’ve angered you. I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have said anything.” There was no response from the painting. Holly looked down, ashamed. “Cousin Harry said I’d have to be satisfied with what I believed,” she said while keeping her head lowered, “and I guess he was right. I know what I know and I won’t ever ask again. I’ll be going now,” Holly added while pocketing Lily’s wand. “I, uh, I won’t be bothering you again. Good-bye and … thank you!” Stifling her tears, Holly walked swiftly towards the door.  
          “He did it because I asked him to!” blurted the voice of the Dumbledore portrait.  
          “What?” Holly turned in disbelief.  
          “Albus!” came Headmaster Snape’s voice reprovingly.  
          “The child _likes_ you, Severus!” exclaimed the Dumbledore in the portrait. “I won’t let him take that from you!” Dumbledore’s face looked down kindly upon Holly. “I was dying,” he continued in explanation. “I didn’t have much longer to live and I wanted my death to mean something—and it did! Voldemort trusted Severus after that. We got invaluable information that led to his defeat. And Severus was appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts. He protected the students during Voldemort’s reign.”  
          “Oh, I knew it couldn’t just be murder,” exclaimed Holly, her eyes shining. “But why doesn’t anyone know?”  
          “I think Harry’s protecting me,” explained Dumbledore softly.  
          “You!”  
          “He loves me so that he can’t bear for anyone to know my death was, well, less than noble.”  
          “But it _was_ noble!” protested Holly. “Look at all the people you helped! Both of you!”  
          “Harry doesn’t see it that way,” replied Dumbledore sadly. “He was there when it happened, you see, and my death hit him pretty hard. You won’t tell anyone what I’ve said, will you? We’ve never told anyone, not even Minerva!”  
          “No, of course I won’t,” promised Holly. “No one else need know. And you,” she added directing her attention to Headmaster Snape. “You’ll always be my hero no matter what others think!” She again climbed into the chair, reached out and touched his picture frame gently. “Thank you for everything.”  
          “No problem,” said the portrait dryly. “Even though it could have never happened because I obviously was not alive when I did it.”  
          “Exactly!” Holly beamed. “You understand! I knew you would! I’ve got to go now,” she told the portrait regretfully and she got off of the chair. Holly carefully pushed the chair back to its original location before returning again to stand in front of the portrait of the Headmaster. “Thanks again!” Holly told him and practically skipped to the door. Holly flung open the door and froze! _Lord Voldemort stood in the doorway with Peter Pettigrew at his side!_

*********************

          The office was quiet and still as it normally was when Headmistress McGonagall was out. What was not normal was the young girl who stood near the open doorway.   She stood there for the longest time not speaking or moving.  
          “This really won’t do,” murmured the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.  
          “What?” questioned the portrait of Severus Snape.  
          “The girl,” explained Albus. “She’s been standing there way too long. Miss,” he called out. “Are you all right?” There was no response. “Miss Wycliff,” he called out again. “Can you hear me?” There was no response.  
          “Do you think she’s hurt?” questioned Dilys, an elderly witch in another portrait. She had long silver ringlets and was peering anxiously down at the girl. “I didn’t see anything happen to her, did you?”  
          “No,” mused Albus, “but it’s not natural for her to stand still for so long, either. Miss!” he called out again. “Are you there?” The girl did not respond. “You’ve known her longer than the rest of us, Phineas, is this normal for her?”  
          A wizard with a pointed beard wearing Slytherin colors of green and silver walked into his frame. He looked down at the girl studying her. “No,” he answered honestly. “She’s always rather talkative around me. Do you suppose this is what Healer Winonan meant when he said the girl might have some medical issues?” He was referring to a last minute meeting Headmistress McGonagall had had with Professor Iverson just before school opened concerning some new restrictions recently received by Healer Winonan.  
          “Possibly,” agreed Albus thoughtfully, “but I must admit I’ve never seen nor heard of behavior such as this before. Have you, Dilys?”  
          “No,” the witch agreed. “Perhaps we should notify Madam Pomfrey…”  
          “I don’t think it would do any good,” replied Albus. “Remember, McGonagall said she was changing the password on the way out; no one yet knows the new password so even if Madam Pomfrey knew, she couldn’t come here to help.”  
          “Then we need to locate McGonagall,” suggested Everard. He was a sallow-faced wizard with short black bangs. “I could search the Ministry for her, and tell her to come back immediately,” he offered. “She shouldn’t be too hard to find.”  
          “Don’t do that,” exclaimed Severus suddenly. “If McGonagall comes back and finds Miss Wycliff in here, the girl will get in trouble! Big trouble!”  
          “Worried about her?” questioned Phineas with a grin. “I told you she was not your average witch…”  
          “You did,” admitted Severus. “But I never expected—” his voice died amidst the amused chuckles of the people in the other portraits.  
          “We can discuss that later,” interrupted Albus with a smile. “Severus is right, though. I seem to recall McGonagall specified Miss Wycliff had to travel with someone else at all times.”  
          “That’s right!” put in Phineas. “She could get expelled for this!”  
          “So what do we do?” questioned Dilys.  
          “The only thing we can do,” replied Albus. “Talk. **Miss Wycliff**!” he called out. **“Can you hear me?”** The other portraits joined in calling and shouting trying to get the girl’s attention. Presently they fell silent.  
          “It doesn’t seem to be working,” observed Dilys mournfully.  
          “You try, Severus,” suggested Albus. He had noted Severus had not contributed his voice to their earlier efforts to attract Miss Wycliff’s attention. “After all,” Albus reasoned, “she seems to like you best.”  
          “Like!” snorted Phineas. “That has to be the worst case of infatuation I have ever seen!” The other portraits tittered in agreement.  
          “I think it’s kind of sweet,” stated Dilys with a smile.  
          “I think you’re a bit old for her,” said Everard reprovingly. “Whatever did you do to make her like you so?”  
          Severus leaned back in his seat uncomfortably. “Saved her life, apparently.” He looked over at Albus. “I can’t talk to her,” he argued. “I don’t know how to talk to children, you know that!”  
          “We all know that,” agreed Albus, “but this is different. You’ve got to try. After all,” he added, “I hate to say it, but _you’re_ the reason she’s here!”  
          Severus sighed. “Very well, I’ll try. But you can’t seriously expect anything to come of this!” He leaned forward in his seat. “Miss,” he called out hesitantly. “Can you hear me?” There was no response. “See,” Severus said turning back to Albus. “She doesn’t seem to hear me either!”  
          “Keep trying,” encouraged Albus. “We have until McGonagall gets back.”  
          “Are you serious?” demanded Severus. “That could be hours! What on earth would I say to her for that long?”  
          “I’m sure you’ll think of something. It’s not like you have anything else to do with your time,” reminded Albus.   
          “Talk about potions,” suggested Dilys. “You’re always good with them.”  
          “Yes,” agreed Phineas. “A good love potion can always sound romantic…”  
          Severus rolled his eyes up and groaned.  
          “Even if it doesn’t work, it should be entertaining…” said Everard with a chuckle.  
          “Everyone please!” said Albus putting up his hands to quiet the other portraits. “This is no laughing matter. Seriously, Severus,” he added looking at Severus, “keep trying. I suspect you’re the only one who can help her.”  
          “Oh, well,” grumbled Severus. “I hope McGonagall gets back soon so she can end all this nonsense. Miss Wycliff,” he called out. “You don’t belong in the Headmistress’ office. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look standing there like that? You need to wake up, move, something!”  
          “Honestly, Severus,” put in Albus. “Surely you can do better than that—be nicer while you talk…”  
          Severus sighed. “Miss Wycliff,” he tried again in a gentler voice. “You’ve got to start moving. If you stay here like that you are sure to get in trouble with the Headmistress—maybe even expelled from Hogwarts… Better?” he asked looking over at Albus.  
          Albus seemed to roll his eyes and sigh. “Better,” he conceded. “Just keep talking,” he urged.  
          “About what?” questioned Severus. “Seriously, I have no idea what to say to her.”  
          “What did you say when you were talking to the students after class?” asked Everard.  
          “I didn’t,” replied Severus stonily.  
          “Never?”  
          “If I had to, we would discuss student performance or lack thereof. But I have no idea the ability of this student so I would have nothing to say to her…”  
          “What about your lectures?” suggested Phineas.   “You talked to the students then.”  
          “As a group, yes,” replied Severus. “I talked and they listened. That’s hard to do when she isn’t looking at me,” Severus replied.  
          “You can still talk,” encouraged Albus. “I’m sure she’s listening…”  
          Severus sighed. He cleared his throat. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making,” he began speaking in a voice barely more than a whisper. He had given his First day, First year potions lecture so often he had it memorized.  
          “You’ve got to speak louder than that,” interrupted Dilys. “You’ll put her to sleep if she can even hear you!”  
          “That’s how I always lecture,” protested Severus. “I never need to speak louder and no one _ever_ fell asleep! As there is little foolish wand-waving here,” he continued in his soft sibilant voice, “many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins bewitching the mind, ensna—”  
          “You really _are_ dead, aren’t you?” interrupted a quavering voice.  
          Severus looked down at the girl who had suddenly spoken. She hadn’t turned to look at him, but the child’s body seemed to have relaxed somehow; she was no longer stiff and still. “Yes,” replied Severus quietly.  
          “You said,” began the voice that did sound a lot like Lily’s, “that it isn’t often one could choose the place and time of one’s death…”  
          “I did?’”  
          “Yes,” she answered softly. “You did. Did you?”  
          “What?”  
          “Did you choose the time and place of your death?”  
          “No.”  
          “That’s so sad.” Severus heard the girl gulp and saw her shoulders heave up and down in silent sobs.  
          “It was a long time ago,” he told her gently.  
          “Not to me,” she whispered. “Never to me.” Her hands moved up to her face and seemed to make wiping motions while her shoulders continued to move up and down.   Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat; he hated tears. “Thank you again,” the girl said softly and without looking back, she moved forward through the entryway closing the door behind her.

 ********************

          Becky and Mark greeted Holly with open relief when she stepped off the stairs and back into the corridor. “How’d it go?” asked Becky anxiously.  
          “Fine,” replied Holly. She smoothed her hair back and hoped her face didn’t look smudgy from all her earlier tears. “Sad, but fine. We talked,” Holly added. “He’s different from my Headmaster but he’s still the Headmaster,” she finished not explaining further. Someday she may tell them some of their conversation, but not today. Holly wanted to savour her memories not share them. “Let’s go.” And the three started walking down the corridor.  
          “It’s almost noon,” commented Mark as they walked. “What took you so long? I was afraid the Headmistress would return before you did.”  
          Holly paused and then spoke. “I ran into Lord Voldemort,” she replied bluntly. That was something she probably shouldn’t keep secret.  
          “No!” exclaimed Becky in horror.  
          “You had a flashback!” concluded Mark stating the obvious. “I knew we should have gone with you! What’d you do? Tear up the room in a panic trying to get away?”  
          “No, I froze!” admitted Holly, “too frightened to move. That’s what I did before. That guy is scary!”  
          “No!” whispered Becky again. “So what happened?”  
          “The portraits talked me through it so everything’s O.K.,” Holly finished calmly. Actually it was only one portrait that had talked her through. In her terror, Holly hadn’t even noticed the voices of the other portraits. But the familiar reassuring voice of Headmaster Snape managed to reach her consciousness and, bit by bit, quiet her fears. He had protected her from Lord Voldemort before and would do so again.  
          But Headmaster Snape’s words didn’t make sense. It was as if he was totally ignoring the threat that stood in front of them. Gradually, Holly realized the Headmaster saw no threat in front of her. Perhaps there was none… Then she knew: Lord Voldemort existed only in her mind! He was dead, as was the Headmaster. Voldemort’s frightening image seemed to fade in front of her and then there was only an empty doorway and the memory of Headmaster Snape, who had saved her once again…

********************

 _“Homenum revelio!”_ said Becky with determination pointing her wand randomly outward. Nothing happened. _“Homenum revelio!”_ repeated Becky trying again.  
          “What are you practicing that spell for” asked Mark curiously. Becky and Mark were walking back to the castle after feeding the Roc. They no longer needed flobberworms and bloodworms; the Roc was now eating solid meat. Becky had sobbed for hours on Holly’s shoulder the first time Hagrid added a dead rabbit to the diet but she was “O.K.” with it now as long as the rabbits were already dead and Mark handled them.  
          “Professor Flitwick said he’d give extra credit to any student that performed a spell from the back of the book this week,” answered Becky earnestly. “I picked this one out. _“Homenum revelio!”_ she repeated.  
          “You don’t need any extra credit,” commented Mark. “You’re all caught up.”  
          “I _always_ need extra credit,” replied Becky rolling her eyes. “I’m lousy at Charms and can use all the help I can get. _Homenum revelio!”_ Nothing happened. It was gray and cold but dawn had already broken and though still dark outside, it was fairly easy to see.  
          “Why don’t you give it a break?” suggested Mark. “There is nobody out here except us so you can’t tell if you’re doing it right anyway.”  
          “I’ve got to practice somewhere and I can’t do it in the halls,” replied Becky in defense. _“Homenum revelio!”_ she said again while waiving her wand.  
          “How about the dorms? You know, somewhere there are people?”  
          “There’s never enough time there,” sighed Becky in frustration. _“Homenum revelio!”_ and she shook her wand again. “Frankly, between Holly, the Roc and the homework, all I ever want to do when I’m in the dorm is sleep!”  
          “Why don’t you tell Holly? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if Susan or Lynette went with her on some of those trips.”  
          “I can’t do that! Holly’s my friend!” exclaimed Becky. “I don’t want her to feel guilty! It isn’t Holly’s fault she can’t go anywhere alone! _Homenum revelio!”_  
          “Mmm,” said Mark sympathetically. “You won’t be friends with Holly any more if you start to resent her,” he commented thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t I go with Holly to Hogsmeade this weekend and you stay at the dorms and do—whatever! Sleep, review, relax.”  
          “You sure? _Homenum revelio!”_  
          “Course! The Hog’s Head Inn isn’t all that bad.”  
          Becky laughed. “Not now that we’ve managed to clean it off a bit!” She was speaking of the cleaning spells they had used the last few times that made their benches and tabletop spotless and smelling faintly like lavender. “O.K.,” Becky decided. “Let’s do that! But I still need to get this spell done before then. _Homenum revelio!”_ she shouted again waiving her wand. “I just wish I could practice in the halls!”  
          Mark sighed. Becky had a point. Between classes, choir, feeding the Roc, trips to the infirmary, trips to retrieve missing books and papers, and trips to the Room of Requirement, Becky probably spent more time in the halls than anywhere else.  
          “Did you see that?” Becky asked suddenly.  
          “See what?” Mark had been busy watching the ground where he walked.  
          “My wand! The end turned sort of green for a moment!”  
          “Did it?” Mark looked at Becky’s wand and it looked perfectly normal to him.  
          “I’m sure it did!”  
          Mark looked up and all around. He saw no one else outside except Becky. “Where was it pointed at?” he asked.  
          “Um, that way, I think.” Becky pointed vaguely towards the castle somewhat in the line of the pathway.  
          “You think? Don’t you know?”  
          “Well, I’m pretty sure that was the way it was pointing at the time…”  
          “You’re supposed to know,” chastised Mark. “You’re not supposed to do a spell without knowing where you’re aiming!” He pulled out his own wand. _“Homenum reveloio!”_ he shouted pointing his wand in the general direction Becky had indicated. Nothing happened. But then Mark had never tried the spell before and had only the vaguest idea of what was supposed to happen. “You sure it lit up?” he asked again.  
          “Pretty sure,” replied Becky. She didn’t sound too confident.  
          “Well, there’s people in the castle, of course, but that’s too far away. Otherwise… _Homenum reveloio!”_ he shouted while focusing on his wand intending to do a full sweep of the area. Suddenly the end of his wand lit up bright green. Mark looked at the direction indicated; the castle door had opened and several Slytherin students were walking swiftly out while carrying brooms. He recognized them immediately as the Slytherin quidditch team obviously out to do some early morning practice. Mark hastily lowered his wand but the Slytherins had noticed the action. Becky swiftly lowered her wand as well. A raised wand around the Slytherins was an invitation to disaster! The Slytherin team walked directly forward and surrounded Becky and Mark before coming to a stop.  
          “You had your wand out and pointed at us,” began Scorpius Malfoy, the Slytherin keeper. “Want to duel?” he challenged with a confident smirk.  
           “Actually, you both did,” corrected Martina Goyle, one of the Slytherin beaters. “Maybe a two on two duel?” Martina dared while stepping closer. Becky and Mark instinctively took a backwards step to avoid being stepped on by Martina’s heavy chunky shoes. Martina’s beady black eyes shined in the morning light as she waited for a response.  
          “Uh, no, thanks,” said Mark keeping his voice as steady as possible while meeting Scorpius’ blue eyes. The Slytherins could sense fear and weakness as easily as a vulture could sense dead prey. “We’ve got to get ready for class and haven’t had breakfast yet.”  
          “Uh, yeah,” added Becky in a quavering voice. “I can’t concentrate properly when I’m hungry…”  
          “Cowards!” taunted Shirley Ogg. A green cap with the gold letter “S” covered her curly bleach blonde hair and was pulled down over her ears.  
          “Save it for some other time,” said one of the older Chasers impatiently. “We won’t have much practice time if we have to wait for you to finish dueling.” The Chaser started walking off followed by other team members leaving Scorpius, Martina and Shirley still standing in front of Mark and Becky.  
          Shirley scowled and looked at the swiftly walking team that was moving further away with every step. “Come on!” she told Martina grabbing her arm and pulling her away. Martina gave a last disappointed glance at the two of them before following Shirley. Scorpius scowled in disappointment. “You and me in class,” he promised and hurried off to join the rest of his team.  
          Mark and Becky watched the group turn the corner towards the quidditch field and then breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on,” Mark suggested while pocketing his wand. “Let’s get some breakfast.” Becky nodded and the two walked back into the castle.


	25. Chapter 25

          “Hey, Holly,” asked Albus after Divination. “Could you wait up?”  
          “You go on ahead,” Holly told Mark and Becky. “I’ll catch up with you later.” They nodded their heads and Holly immediately slowed down to let Albus catch up with her. After all, they were all headed towards the same next class anyway. Taylor and Rose, Holly noted, had hung back a bit giving the two space to talk in private. “Are you going to Hogsmead Saturday?” Albus asked when they were alongside each other.  
          “Well, yes, I guess so,” replied Holly. She hadn’t given it much thought but she supposed she would. Becky looked forward to getting away from school as did Mark and the dorms were rather boring without them. So Holly would probably come along…  
          “Do you plan on returning to The Hog’s Head? We ah, noticed you’ve been going there a lot,” Albus added by way of explanation.  
          “Of course,” replied Holly promptly. Becky and Mark could shop or do whatever they pleased at Hogsmead as long as they included a trip to The Hog’s Head, and not the Three Broomsticks Inn. “Why?”  
          “I, uh, have something for you, then,” said Albus. He stopped and pulled something wrapped in brown paper from out of his pack.  
          “What is it?” asked Holly curiously as she unwrapped the package. It looked to be three pieces of grubby gray canvas.  
          “It’s, uh, a clean cloth,” replied Albus looking a little embarrassed.  
          “A what?”  
          “A clean cloth,” repeated Albus, “for when you go to The Hog’s Head. Rose made them for you.”  
          “Uh, thank you,” said Holly refolding the package carefully. The two resumed walking. “But, um, why?” Holly thought they had managed rather well the last few visits. They had selected a booth and table well away from the portrait on the wall so the barkeep wouldn’t complain they were bothering it. Then Mark quietly proceeded to perform a cleaning spell on both the table and the seats. Despite the fact her own mum kept a spotless house, somehow Holly hadn’t minded the filth but Becky refused to reenter the inn without a pack of disinfectant wipes for the bottles served and the knowledge she’d have some place clean to sit. Holly always felt the barkeep suspiciously watched them while they were there, but he had never said a word to the trio except to demand payment.  
          “Aberforth,” began Albus uncomfortably, “that’s the owner, always grumbles about how he has to clean up after you guys leave.”  
          “He does?” asked Holly, puzzled. They had always left their table spotless. She put the cloth in her bag while they walked.  
          “Yeah. He has to dirty things up again. Please don’t be offended,” Albus added quickly clearly uncertain how Holly would take the news. “He’s just very particular about his inn and the way it looks.”  
          “I had no idea,” said Holly. And she didn’t. It never occurred to her that someone would actually _want_ an establishment to look so filthy, but it should have. For people with wands, cleaning should have been a simple matter to do—or undo. “How do you, uh use them?” she inquired referring to the cleaning cloths.  
          “You just put them on the table and benches and you always get a clean surface to sit on or use,” Albus replied eagerly. “It’s kind of like our self cleaning uniforms. Rose made a set for us too. The gray color matches the overall décor so nobody knows we’re using them while we’re there.” They reached the staircase and started down the steps. “Why do you keep going back there?” Albus asked curiously. “Most people prefer the Three Broomsticks.”  
          “Well, its quaint and quiet,” Holly stopped. She was talking to Albus. He would understand. “Truth?” she asked.  
          “Truth.”  
          “Because it doesn’t smell like butterbeer,” replied Holly honestly.  
          “Butterbeer?” Albus laughed. “Seriously?”  
          “Seriously.”  
          Albus got solemn with sudden comprehension. “You get flashbacks at the Three Broomsticks?”  
          “Yes,” admitted Holly. “And I don’t at the Hog’s Head. Just memories. Why do you go there?”  
          “Well, Aberforth is kind of a friend of dad’s,” began Albus. “He’s Dumbledore’s brother, you know.”  
          “Really?”  
          “Yeah,” replied Albus. “I guess he sort of helped out during the Battle. So we, ah, support him.”  
          “Oh.”  
          “Also,” Albus added hesitantly and Holly could feel a sudden wave of shame and embarrassment emanate from him, “I never seem to stumble or fall while I’m in there…”  
          “Oh,” said Holly softly. She knew what he meant. Mishap after mishap still seemed to follow to Albus especially when he was around the Slytherins. He had taken to eating on the side of the table furtherest from the Slytherins but that didn’t help. No matter where Albus sat, some Slytherin would walk casually past him while entering or leaving the Great Hall. Though quick to deny it, Holly was certain the Slytherins now did so deliberately just to see what would happen. Sure enough, something almost always tended to drop, slide, splash, break, fall or spill with usually a person (Albus) or portion of the food landing on a Slytherin. The injured party always behaved righteously angry but overall the Slytherins weren’t angry, not really, not any more. It was just another excuse to laugh at Albus.  
          “It’s got to be a spell of some sort,” Holly assured him. “It isn’t you, Albus, it just isn’t!”  
          Albus sighed. “I know. But knowing doesn’t make things any better. Even when it’s not me it looks like me. We even asked Professor Lovegood to look into it and she hasn’t found anything!”  
          “Why don’t you take your meals in the dorms?” suggested Holly. She did that when she was learning to block and had wanted to do so after the plane crash.  
          “I tried that,” confided Albus glumly, “and I think it only made things worse.”  
          “Really?”  
          “Yeah. That was the day I tripped in Potions and spilled the contents of my cauldron all over the room!”  
          “Oh.” Holly remembered that day. The whole class had to be evacuated while clean-up occurred and Albus had lost 10 house points for creating the mess in the first place. Professor Slughorn was pretty mad.  
           “Besides, dad says I haven’t done anything wrong so I shouldn’t hide.”  
           “Oh,” said Holly sympathetically. “He wouldn’t let me eat in the dorms after the airplane crash either,” she told Albus. “Though in retrospect, I don’t think the Slytherins teased me nearly as much as what they’re doing to you.”  
          “That’s because you didn’t keep crashing into them afterward,” replied Albus. “What makes it worse is all the things they keep doing to me as payback! They don’t get docked at all!”  
           Holly could sense the anger and frustration bottled within Albus. She nodded sympathetically. Holly knew Albus had found so many flobberworms in his things that he regularly waterproofed his bags, books, clothes and assignments as a precaution. Then there were the bloodworms that seemed to materialize on his chair just before he sat down, collapsing chairs, disassembled Roc broom (always right before Albus’ turn to feed the chick), lost homework, missing books…   The list went on and on.  
          Albus was certain it was all deliberate Slytherin harassment. Unfortunately, he couldn’t prove it! In the meantime, the Slytherins swore innocence in all these pranks insisting instead Albus had done them himself to himself just to gain sympathy! Holly was certain Albus hadn’t done any of it and though none of the Slytherins radiated guilt, who else had cause to do such things?  
          In addition, Professor Trelawney’s persistent claim of an “Evil Eye” watching Albus had spawned all sorts of “eye” jokes. The third year Slytherins had taken to affixing a Weasley Cyclops Eye on their arms and/or forehead. These eyes were invisible until a furrowed brow or tightened muscle caused them to open. Usually the eyes were opened and made to blink weirdly at Albus whenever the Professors weren’t looking. Blinking “eye” notes were passed to Albus, Weasley “exploding eyes” would land “splat” on the desk in front of Albus, blinking eye marbles and “eye” ice cubes would drop unexpectedly in Albus’ food and drinks…  
          The continual harassment made Albus on edge, touchy and quick to anger. It had cost Gryffindor numerous house points.  
          “Hang in there,” Holly encouraged Albus as they got off the stairs. “We’ll find who’s doing this—find him and stop him!”  
          “I hope so,” replied Albus but his emotions didn’t reflect much hope.

********************

          “Holly, look!” Becky exclaimed excitedly.  
          Holly cautiously opened one eye and looked at the wall. Then she opened her other eye not daring to believe what she saw. A familiar small, plain wooden door with no ornamentation or decoration had appeared in the center of the wall. It was blackened and scorched and smelled of burnt wood.  
          “I guess you really do need it,” commented Mark as Holly reached out wonderingly and touched the charred surface of the door. He had been trying to convince Holly that the reason the room never appeared was because she didn’t actually _need_ it this year.  
          Holly’s fingers trailed across the rough surface of the door until they reached blackened doorknob. She had failed so many times before that she wasn’t prepared! She hadn’t even planned on coming today, but Albus had tripped in Divination. He had crashed into several jars containing scented oils, which had, of course, shattered and their contents splattered around the room. Some oily drops had landed on the burning embers of the fire causing them to explode violently sending copious amounts of smoke and hot ash everywhere! The students needed no urging to evacuate the room. Professor Trelawney cancelled class for the day and kept Albus behind to help clean up the mess.  
          Since they had some unexpected free time, Holly thought to try to enter the Room of Requirement again… She had done so mostly out of habit. Holly had all but given up hope of actually succeeding… Hadn’t expected it might actually work! Or so quickly! Holly had only paced back and forth a few times when Becky had told her to look…  
          “Well, are you going to open it?” asked Mark practically. “We haven’t all day, you know.”  
          Holly’s fingers grasped the blackened doorknob and turned it causing the door to swing open creaking as it hung precariously on its blackened burnt hinges. Mark and Becky walked inside. Holly followed. She carefully closed the door behind her locking it with a huge brass key that hung on the wall nearby.  
          The tiny room looked just as she remembered it. A huge double keyboard organ nearly filled it with brass organ pipes so long they loomed overhead and vanished into the high ceiling. The keys, sides and pipes were all blackened and scorched but Holly knew they would play just fine.  
          Holly noted with relief a set of familiar music books sitting on the stand waiting for her. She sat down on the bench and opened the first book. It contained a series of warm-up drills. Holly began to pull out stops and push in various buttons. Then she wound her long blonde hair into a bun on top of her head. Finally, Holly picked up the purple polka-dotted earmuffs that had been sitting on the bench and placed them over her ears. The earmuff strap fitted snuggly over her bun helping to keep it in place.  
          Then Holly got out her wand, muttered a spell and the huge lever next to the organ, the bellows, began to move slowly up and down. Holly took a deep breath, sat facing her music and stuck the wand into her bun making sure it continued to point towards the lever. The lever continued to move up and down pumping air. Then she called out, “Are you ready?”  
          “Ready!” called out Becky and Mark. While Holly had been occupied at the organ, Mark and Becky had been busy too. They had developed a routine after their hours in the organ room with Holly last year. Both students had first placed their bags on the empty coffee table behind the organ bench. Then Becky had walked over to a rope attached to a hook in the wall, untied it and carefully lowered the single chandelier that had hung up high in the ceiling. Mark helped her retie the rope securely when the chandelier hung just above the bench with its lit candles brightly illuminating both keys and music.  
          Then Mark seated himself in one of the two comfy chairs squished into the room and Becky sat down in the other. Next, they picked up their puffy earmuffs now resting plainly on the tiny coffee table between their bags. Becky always went first. Today, she selected the hot pink muffs with orange stripes while Mark took the remaining one, lime green and red plaid. The muffs never looked the same from visit to visit. The two students put the muffs securely over their ears. Organ music sounded kind of loud in this room. Digging into their bags, Becky pulled out her class notes to review and Mark selected a book to read.  
          Holly pressed her fingers on the keys. The pipes blew out air and filled the room with sound. Then she began to play. The muffs protected Holly’s ears from the loud sound, but did nothing to stop the musical vibrations from filling every fiber of her body. Holly played the first set of warm-ups. She was relieved that her fingers still seemed to know how to move after such a long absence of practice. She played the second set of warm-ups and the third... Holly continued with the warm-ups until she finished every one she knew. Then Holly opened the next music book on the stand. She started on the first page and played every song she had ever learned in the book. She played each one over and over again until they sounded note perfect.  
          When she finished with those songs, Holly wished she had brought the books from home along with her to the Room of Requirement. Her neighbor, Mrs. Rogers, had taught her a lot of music on the piano. Holly had intended to try the songs out on the organ, but unfortunately, those books were still in the dorm… Unwilling to stop, Holly pulled out the warm-up music book again—and discovered all her piano books behind it!  
          Happily Holly played every song she knew again and again adjusting stops and buttons until she liked the sound. Then she discovered the organ book Vernon had given her after his trip to Chessington. Behind it was the book Holly’s mum had given her for her birthday. Holly had set the book from Vernon aside during the summer in eager anticipation of playing its music at Hogwarts. She had never even looked at the book from Mum not wanting to face the unhappy memory associated with it—the prospect of attending a different boarding school. Dad had changed his mind about that, but the book had been given before that moment and Holly hadn’t looked at it since. Now, at Hogwarts, Holly happily opened both books and began to play… The music seemed to fill her with warm thoughts of mum, dad and Vernon.  
          By the time she finished, Holly noticed her arms and fingers were shaking with fatigue. She would have continued playing except her fingers really didn’t seem to work properly. Holly reluctantly lifted her hands from the keyboard, pulled the wand from her hair and let the bellows wheeze to a stop.  
          “Are you done?” asked Becky calmly. Her quiet voice sounded odd in the silence that followed the loudness of organ music.  
          “I guess so,” replied Holly reluctantly.  
          “Feel better?”  
          “Much,” Holly said dreamily. Her mind was in the clouds. She could still hear strains of organ music in her head that seemed to drown out all other thoughts and concerns.  
          “Good,” said Becky, “because I’m hungry.” She stood up and grabbed her bag. “Let’s go eat!”  
           Holly reluctantly removed the earmuffs. Her blonde hair fell down in a wave about her head. She was feeling a tad hungry too, now that she thought about it. “CLASS!” Holly suddenly said in a panic. “I forgot all about it! Why didn’t you say something?” she demanded as she gathered her things hurriedly. “We’re late! We’ll be in so much trouble!”  
          “Herbology is probably long over by now,” informed Becky calmly. “I told Mark to tell the professor we wouldn’t make it and to go on ahead and take notes for us.”  
          “You did WHAT?”  
          “You needed this,” replied Becky. “You’ve been desperate to play the organ ever since we got to Hogwarts and crushed when you couldn’t. I don’t know when you’ll be able to get into the Room of Requirement again so I wasn’t going to stop you just to attend some class. If we get into trouble and lose house points over this, well,” Becky shrugged. “that’s the way it goes. Letting you play was more important that any House points.”  
          Holly reached over and gave Becky a warm hug. “You’re the best,” she said feeling tears drip down her cheeks. “I won’t forget this!”  
          Becky nodded and hugged Holly back. “Let’s just hurry before we miss lunch too.”

*********************

          “WHO DID IT!!!” demanded Albus pointing his wand angrily. His whole body shook with emotion. The Slytherins at the table looked up and blinked in surprise, each a perfect picture of innocence. “WHICH ONE OF YOU!” persisted Albus. “I CHALLENGE YOU TO A WIZARD DUEL! HERE AND NOW! ALL OF YOU, IF NECESSARY!”  
          Albus had stomped into the great hall during dinner and had marched directly up to the Slytherin table to make his demand. Holly was blocking, of course, her mind blissfully filled with organ music, but all that stopped with Albus’ arrival. She didn’t need empathy to sense the total rage emanating from Albus. It was all over his face and every part of his body. He was easy to hear, too, even if he hadn’t been shouting. The whole hall had fallen silent to listen.  
          “ALBUS POTTER!” came the imposing voice of Headmistress McGonagall. She stood up from her place at the table on the dais. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS INTERRUPTION?” She could radiate a lot of anger when she wanted to.  
          Albus turned to the headmistress. “My owl, Ma’am,” he began still shaking with rage, “someone’s clipped her wing feathers! She can’t fly!” There was a swift intake of breath from the whole hall. No one had ever bothered student pets before! “Her feathers have been dyed green, too,” he added. “One of them did it!” Albus accused looking back at the Slytherins. “I just know it!”  
          “Sit down,” commanded Headmistress McGonagall. “We shall take care of this. Professor Longbottom?” she added turning to him with a swirl of her tartan robes. “I want you and Professor Slughorn to investigate this immediately!” Both Professor Longbottom and Professor Slughorn nodded their heads and stood. “Professor Hagrid?” the Headmistress added. “Would you please assist Professor Lovegood in setting up some security at the owlery so this doesn’t happen again. Hagrid nodded and stood up as well.  
          Then Headmistress McGonagall turned her attention back to Albus. He had remained standing, anger, frustration and distress written all over his face. Rose, Taylor and James had come up besides him. James had Albus’ wand in his hand; Rose and Taylor were whispering in Albus’ ears. “Well, Mr. Potter,” began the Headmistress angrily. “SIT DOWN! I will not allow baseless accusations to be made in this hall. I said we will take care of this and we shall!”  
          “This isn’t over!” announced Albus over his shoulder as his family finally got him to walk away. “Someone will _pay_ for this!”  
          “NUTTER!” came an audible response from somewhere on the Slytherin table. With renewed fury Albus whirled and charged the table. James grabbed Albus’ robes pulling him back; Taylor and Rose quickly tackled Albus and brought him to the floor. James moved up and took a firm grip of Albus’ upper arm and the three physically dragged a struggling Albus to the Gryffindor table.  
          “TEN POINTS from Slytherin!” announced Headmistress McGonagall coldly when things quieted. “I will not condone name calling at this school!”


	26. Chapter 26

          The morning of the second quidditch match was gloomy and cold. The fog had rolled in casting a pall over everything but that didn’t stop the students and staff from gathering to watch the contest. Holly Wycliff huddled with her friends on the highest bench in the Hufflepuff section. The distance made it easier for her to block the intense emotions from the crowds. Sasha curled up on Holly’s lap and purred reassuringly. Despite blocking, Holly could still sense outside emotions; they were especially strong and not very nice.  
          Headmistress McGonagall’s investigation failed to identify the person who had clipped the wing feathers of Albus’ owl. Upset with her failure, the Gryffindors had gotten behind Albus in his quest for justice. Despite their personal feelings towards Albus, they all agreed that clipping wing feathers had gone too far. It was also obvious to them that only a Slytherin had reason to do it. The Slytherins maintained their innocence and arguments concerning the owl erupted throughout the campus all week. Somehow the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had become more than just a game, it was the duel Albus had demanded.  
          “It’s starting!” Mark announced excitedly. Holly peered down through the fog and saw red and green shapes, no doubt team members carrying their brooms, move through the fog onto the field. They seemed to stand still for a moment and then, as one, all of the blots of color rose from the ground and hovered. A loud whistle sounded. Suddenly, they were off! Holly couldn’t see much of the action; things were just too foggy. She couldn’t imagine how either seeker would ever see the snitch to catch it.  
          “Isn’t Albus supposed to be on the team?” asked Becky suddenly.  
          “Yes, of course,” replied Holly absently. She was following the swirl of colors through the fog guessing at the action but couldn’t see the quaffle or bludger at all which would have explained the movements. “He’s the beater.”  
          “No, he isn’t,” announced Becky firmly.  
          “Huh?”  
          “Weren’t you listening?” Becky added. “Michael Goldstein just said that the beaters were Taylor O’Daniels and Jennifer Woods. Albus’ name wasn’t mentioned at all!”  
          Holly frowned. “That can’t be,” she insisted. “Albus would never miss his chance at the Slytherins—especially after what happened to his owl.”  
          “Maybe the Gryffindors thought that Albus had too much of a grudge and it wasn’t a good idea for him to play…” suggested Mark.  
          “Maybe,” agreed Holly thoughtfully. “Taylor is the team substitute… But still…” Holly cautiously unblocked. A surge of emotions assaulted her and Holly reached for Sasha’s purr to steady herself. Once in control Holly tried to ignore the bulk of emotions and direct her senses towards the players. Was Albus really not there?  
          An overwhelming sensation of shock and surprise abruptly intruded upon Holly’s efforts. Startled, Holly turned her head in the direction of the new emotion. “Something’s wrong,” she muttered peering through the fog trying to see the source of such a strong emotion.  
          Suddenly, her whole body exploded with pain! Holly screamed louder and louder!

********************

          Becky Elaine Smith heard Holly scream and immediately clapped her hands over her ears. “What?? What is it?” she shouted to Holly over her screams.  
          But Holly didn’t answer; she slid off the bench and curled on the floor all the while screaming non-stop.  
          “What’s wrong?” Becky shouted again.  
          “Block!” yelled Mark. He knelt down over Holly and spoke in her ear. “You’ve got to block!”  
_“Block?”_ thought Becky in confusion. Wasn’t Holly doing that already? She surely wouldn’t attend a match without blocking.  
          “Block!” repeated Mark loudly.  
          Abruptly the screaming stopped. Holly remained curled up on the floor. “Help them,” she moaned, “somebody help them! Please!” she begged and began to sob.  
_“Help who?”_ wondered Becky. She stood and looked out over the quidditch field but could only see fog and more fog.  
_**“RECENDO NEBULA!”**_ boomed the loud voice of Headmistress McGonagall.  
          Becky looked at the direction of her voice and saw the Headmistress in her tartan robes standing tall holding her wand up high. A bright white light seemed to emanate from the wand. Gradually the fog thinned creating a cleared area encompassing the quidditch pitch. Becky looked around. “No!” she whispered in shock and disbelief. “Oh, no!”  
          “What?” asked Mark. He was still kneeling down with Holly. Mark stood, looked at Becky and Becky pointed. Part of the stadium, was just … gone! The whole section seemed to have collapsed and Becky could only see a pile of rubble!  
          “The Slytherins were sitting there!” whispered Mark in horror unable to take his eyes off the missing section of stadium!  
          The Gryffindor quidditch team immediately stopped mid-flight and flew to the collapsed section, all thoughts of the game forgotten. Several of the Slytherin players followed.  
          Only Seeker Scorpius Malfoy flew in the other direction. He zoomed straight down and suddenly shouted, “Got it!” Becky heard his words easily in the stunned silence that followed the collapse. Then Becky heard the lower moans and cries of those trapped under the rubble. She saw Scorpius triumphantly hold up the golden snitch he had just caught and start to circle the field. Scorpius had obviously been so focused on the snitch, he hadn’t realized the others had quit playing or why. The victorious grin on Scorpius’ face turned to shocked horror when he saw the collapsed section. The Snitch slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the ground unnoticed.  
_“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ shouted James Potter and a piece of stadium tower rose into the air. Using his wand, James caused the piece to move towards the edge of the field where it fell with a loud clatter. As the rest of the students and staff rushed to help, the other quidditch players set their wands to work lifting too.  
          Suddenly Becky saw two students on brooms, one in red, the other in green, point their wands in the same direction and a bloodied body came rising from the rubble. “Over here!” shouted Madam Pomfrey. She had hurried to the center of the quidditch pitch and indicated an empty area of field. The two floated the body to Madam Pomfrey and lowered it gently on the grass. Madam Pomfrey immediately knelt to examine the student.  
          “I’ve, uh, got to help,” said Mark. “Stay with Holly,” he told Becky and he hurried down the stairs.  
          Becky stared mutely at the receding figure. A part of her wanted to go with him; a part was glad she had an excuse not to. It was bad enough watching but to be down there—that would be ten times worse! Becky looked down at Holly. She was still curled up in a ball sobbing. “It’s O.K.,” Becky whispered reassuringly to Holly. “It’s going to be fine,” and wished what she was saying was true.  
          After a few minutes, Holly uncurled and pulled herself up. Becky took hold of Holly’s elbow and helped her stand. Holly looked pale and her green eyes were dry and glassy. She faced the field and the wreckage, but Becky wasn’t sure Holly saw any of it. “What are you doing?” Becky asked as Holly turned and took a faltering step down the bleacher walkway.  
          “Going to help,” Holly replied woodenly while taking another step. She stumbled and Becky tightened her grip while pulling up to keep Holly from falling.  
          “You can’t go down there,” Becky argued. “There’s too many emotions!”  
          “I’ve got to help,” Holly whispered determinedly. “Got to stop the pain!”  
          Becky didn’t argue after that. She knew they both needed to be down there helping. Slowly the two made their way down the stairs and onto the pitch.  
          The pitch was filled with people: students running back and forth carrying pieces of rubble, other students and adults lifting and carrying the injured. Holly walked through the crowds heedless of those who rushed past. Becky followed. Holly stopped in front of the line of injured laying neatly in a row, their green clothes smeared with mud blended with the green and brown of the grass and the already muddy field.  
          Madam Pomfrey looked up at their arrival. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said bluntly.  
          “I must,” replied Holly in a toneless voice. “I have to help.”  
          “Very well,” Madam Pomfrey said peering at Holly closely. “Check the students that are conscience,” she instructed while handing a quill and notebook to Becky. “Describe the symptoms you feel. You,” she added looking at Becky, “write the symptoms down and attach it to the student. Then move on to the next person. That will save me time in diagnosis and treatment.  
          “Miss Vasari,” she called out. Ravindra and one of the other Ravenclaws had just deposited an injured student gently on the grass. Ravindra was covered with mud. She stood when she heard her name and walked over to Madam Pomfrey. “Get a complete roster of all students and staff,” ordered Madam Pomfrey. “Find one for all the visitors too! Locate and check off _each_ name on the list personally! I don’t want any guesses and I don’t want to miss anyone! Place an asterisk besides the names of those who are injured and two asterisks besides the names of those who are both injured and unconscious. Report back when you finish.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” said Ravindra and she ran off towards the castle.  
          “She looks bad off,” interrupted Alex Buchanan. He was carrying a limp first year in his arms who was moaning softly. “Where do you want her?”  
          “Place her over there,” directed Madam Pomfrey. And Alex promptly moved in the direction indicated. Madam Pomfrey looked at Holly and Becky who were still standing in place. “Well,” she questioned, “Are you helping or not? Start with her!” she directed pointing to the child Alex had just set down. Holly and Becky obediently moved to the girl’s side.  
          The girl was wearing Slytherin green. Her straight black hair was smeared with mud; more mud obscured her long lashes and bangs. Her face was pale and her eyes were closed but she moaned softly every so often. Near her lay several other students. Becky gulped when she looked around and saw the number of injured lying on the ground. The scene looked like something out of a war movie Becky had seen on the tube. Some seemed so still Becky wasn’t sure they were alive.  
          “Can you, uh, tell who has what injury?” Becky asked Holly in a whisper. She held out the quill and notebook ready to write.  
          “No,” replied Holly bluntly. “There’s too much. All I feel is … _pain!_ ” She suddenly shivered and then clutched herself in a tight hug as if that would ease whatever it was she was feeling inside.  
          “Perhaps we should tell Madam Pomfrey,” suggested Becky hesitantly. She hated to disturb Madam Pomfrey again, but surely there was something else they could do instead.  
          “No!” insisted Holly stubbornly. “This is what she needs. I’ve got to try.” But Holly remained standing stiffly in place making no effort to diagnose anyone.  
          Becky looked around anxiously hoping for ideas on what to do. Madam Pomfrey was busy pouring out a potion. People rushed past back and forth without noticing the two just standing there. It felt wrong to just stand there uselessly amidst all the surrounding activity.  
          “You want me to just write down whatever injuries we can see?” asked Becky.  
          “No,” replied Holly. “That won’t help Madam Pomfrey much.”  
          “Perhaps, if you t-touch her,” ventured Becky hesitantly. Her mum always said that “touch” was a big part in healing. “Then maybe you could sense her p—ah, injuries more than the others…” Holly remained standing, still staring. Had she even heard Becky? “Well, at least you could try,” insisted Becky.  
          Wordlessly, Holly sank down next to the student and took her hand. Then she closed her eyes. She remained that way for so long that Becky was certain the idea had failed. She cast her eyes about for Madam Pomfrey …  
          “Arm hurts,” Holly suddenly whispered, “can’t breathe, chest hurts…”  
          “Which arm? What kind of hurt?” questioned Becky quickly realizing that the term “hurt” wouldn’t help Madam Pomfrey much.  
          “Left arm broken, above the elbow,” said Holly promptly sounding more professional. “Ribs broken, three of them, two on the left side. And my head, left temple, it won’t stop pounding… _write!_ ” Holly suddenly instructed opening her eyes and looking up at Becky. Becky hastily started taking notes. Holly closed her eyes again and continued, “cold, so cold,” she whispered, “can’t feel my legs at all…”  
          Holly fell silent. Becky looked at her expectantly. “Is that it?” she asked when she realized Holly didn’t seem to be adding any more details. Holly did not respond. She just knelt there with her eyes closed. “Do you want to report on someone else?” Becky asked tentatively. But Holly did not answer, did not move.  
          Becky tore off the paper she had been writing on and tucked it under the collar of the girl where it could be seen. She reached out and straightened Holly’s fingers one by one releasing her grip from the girl. Then Becky placed Holly’s hand on the hand of the person next to the girl, a Slytherin boy with bluish tinge to his skin. Alex had just brought him over and laid him down.  
          “Try this person,” Becky suggested. Holly’s fingers curled around the boy’s hand gripping it tightly.

          **“ALL FIRST THROUGH FOURTH YEAR STUDENTS PLEASE FIND YOUR PREFECT AND RETURN WITH YOUR PREFECT TO THE DORM. PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR DORM UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.”**

          Headmistress McGonagall’s voice boomed through the field. Becky breathed a sigh of relief. That was their cue to leave and there would be no shame in leaving. She looked around for Prefect Gwen or Ben.  
          “I can’t breathe,” gasped Holly suddenly. Becky returned her attention to Holly and started writing down her words. Abruptly Holly slumped over on top of the boy. Becky looked at Holly with shock! What had happened?  
           “Madam Pomfrey!” Becky hollered. “Come quick! It’s Holly! Look!” To her intense relief, Madam Pomfrey stopped what she was doing, grabbed her bag and immediately hurried to Holly’s side. “She said she couldn’t breathe and just keeled over!” Becky told Madam Pomfrey urgently.  
          Madam Pomfrey ignored Holly and instead pulled open one of the boy’s eyelids. She pressed a finger on the boy’s throat. Then Madam Pomfrey turned to her bag and pulled out a small vial. “Come on, come on,” she muttered after she uncorked the vial and dripped some of the potion between the boy’s lips. “You can do it, Corwin,” she urged. “Come on!” Suddenly Corwin coughed and took a gasping breath; Holly coughed too. Madam Pomfrey laughed with relief as she lifted Holly up and off Corwin. “You did good, Miss Wycliff,” she told Holly. “Keep it up.”  
          After that, there was no thought of returning to the dorm. Becky was glad no one tried to get them to leave.

********************

          Holly Wycliff had no idea how many sets of injuries she related to Becky. She just moved whenever Becky told her to move and closed her fingers around whatever hand Becky put into hers.  Holly clutched hard and waited until she could feel the pain of her own grip. Then she related the injuries that went with that grip. Holly wasn’t capable of doing much beyond that. When she wasn’t relating injuries, Holly concentrated on locking her jaws shut to keep from screaming in pain.  
          Finally Becky lifted Holly’s hand and released it. Dimly, Holly heard Becky say, “I think that’s all, Holly, you can take a rest.” Becky wrapped her arms around Holly in a comforting hug; Becky’s sorrow and grief mingled with the prevailing pain. Holly focused on Becky and renewed her efforts to block out the surrounding pain but she couldn’t. There was just too much of it.  
          “Holly!” came a familiar voice. “Have you seen Albus?”  
          “No, we haven’t,” replied Becky and she let go of Holly. “Ask Ravindra—she was supposed to check off all the students.”  
          “I did,” replied James drawing nearer, “and she hasn’t.” Dimly Holly became aware of his intense worry as he came closer. “I need your help, Holly!” said James grabbing Holly’s hand. Almost instantly, James’ worry overwhelmed and seemed to drive away the sensations of pain. Holly took a deep breath of relief and focused on the worry. Worry was better than pain. She opened her eyes and looked at James. He still wore his quidditch uniform; his face and clothes were smeared with mud and blood.  
          “Why wasn’t he playing?” Holly asked suddenly able to think again.  
          “The Slytherins—we knew they were going to try to use Albus somehow, cause a fight or something and make us forfeit the game. We planned to win that game for Albus and didn’t want to give them a chance to claim “foul!” James pulled Holly to a stand. She staggered unable to keep her balance; James tightened his grip steadying her and then continued. “Albus got suited up with the rest of us to fool the Slytherins. Taylor made the switch at the last minute and then Albus was supposed to meet Rose on the stands right after we walked on the field but he never showed. No one I’ve talked to has seen him. I’m really worried!”  
          “Have you checked the dorms?” asked Becky standing as well.  
          “Yes, and he wasn’t there! If you’re not busy here, Holly, I need you to help me find Albus.”  
          Holly looked uncertainly from Becky to James. “Miss Smith,” called out Madam Pomfrey suddenly. “I need your assistance…”  
          “I’ll stay with her,” James assured Becky. Becky nodded and hurried off to Madam Pomfrey. James led Holly to one side of the confusion of the clearing and rescue work. “I know it’s asking a lot,” began James, “but can you kind of scan the area and see if you can sense him anywhere?”  
          “No, I can’t,” whispered Holly regretfully. “There’s too many people. Besides, if he were here, Ravindra would have seen him. She was supposed to do a head count and she’s very good.”  
          James sighed. “I know,” he admitted. “It’s just that I don’t know what else to do or where else to look.”  
          Holly looked around. It was dark and drippy out. Someone had brought in several huge poles and lit torches on their tops for light. The quidditch pitch was mired in mud. Empty stretchers floated towards the lines of injured and others, filled with people, floated off towards the castle. “Have you checked beneath the stadium?” she asked.  
          “No,” admitted James. “He wouldn’t be there. You can’t watch the game from down there and I saw him head the other way before we walked out onto the field”  
          “Well, you last saw him near the stadium,” reasoned Holly. “And you’ve checked all the logical places, so maybe we should check it out…”

********************

         Holly had never before been beneath the stadium. James led her to a tunnel-like corridor lined with stone. As they walked further into the corridor, Holly noticed the sensations of emotions on the field seemed to disappear. She sighed in relief and immediately unblocked welcoming the absence of pain.  
          Their steps seemed to echo loudly in the tunnel. While they walked, small torches placed high in the wall lit up one by one casting eerie shadows in the corridor. Huge blocks of rocks from the ceiling lay on the floor. Holly studied the massive stone columns that held up what remained of the ceiling. How could anything so thick and strong have collapsed?  
          “Perhaps we should turn around,” suggested James. “It probably isn’t too safe down here.”  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Holly. But the two continued forward picking their way between the fallen stones.  
          Finally they came to a huge pile of stone that filled the tunnel from floor to ceiling blocking the way. They had reached the area of the collapse and could go no farther.  
          Can you sense anyone?” questioned James.  
          Holly closed her eyes. What did she feel? She opened her eyes and looked at James. “Only you,” Holly replied softly.  
          James nodded. He seemed both disappointed and relieved. “Let’s go back then,” he suggested and turned to leave.  
          “Meow?”  
          “What is it?” Holly asked as she looked down at her cat Sasha. Sasha had followed Holly as a matter of course, never once leaving Holly’s side since the accident. When outside the dorm, Sasha was always like a gray shadow—there when Holly needed her, but never noisy or obtrusive. Sasha had never before spoken to Holly like that.  
          In response to her question, Sasha immediately spun into a circle and then headed off towards a crack between the rocks. Then she stopped, turned, ran back to Holly and mewed again.  
          “Is there someone there?” James asked the cat with renewed interest. “Someone unconscious perhaps?” They both knew Holly could only sense conscious people. Sasha meowed again, spun around twice and ran back to the crack. Holly remembered Cousin Harry had used Sasha to find her when she had run through Diagon Alley. Perhaps Sasha had found Albus!  
          “We’ve got to get through these rocks!” said Holly growing excited.  
          James nodded. He pointed his wand at a rock on the top near where Sasha stood. _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ he shouted. The rock didn’t move. It was firmly wedged in next to the wall. “Can you get it out?” he asked. Holly reached up high and took hold of the rock with her fingertips. Despite its size, the rock seemed light as a feather, which made it much easier to move. Holly tugged on the rock this way and that working it free. She pulled it out and tossed it onto the ground behind them showering herself with smaller rocks and dirt in the process. James enchanted the rock next to it. Holly worked that rock loose and pulled it out.  
          “I think there’s a hole beyond it,” exclaimed James excitedly. “Hello?” he called out hopefully. “Is anyone there?” There was no answer but Sasha leaped up into the cleared area and mewed anxiously.  
          With renewed energy, Holly and James shifted some more rocks making the opening larger. “I think I can fit through,” announced Holly suddenly. She pulled out her wand. _“Lumnos!”_ she said. The wand lit up and Holly stuck the lit wand behind her ear where it continued to glow.  
          “How’d you do that?” asked James curiously referring to the still lit wand.  
          Holly shrugged. “Practice,” she said without explaining. She hadn’t been able to get into the Room of Requirement after that one day of bliss and she really missed the organ. “Give me a lift,” she directed and James gave her a boost helping her up into the hole.  
          Holly poked her head and wand through the hole. Sasha squeezed in over Holly’s head digging her claws into Holly’s scalp and jumped into the space below.  
          “Well? What do you see?” asked James anxiously.  
          “More rocks,” replied Holly. Sasha circled between some of the rocks and mewed softly while looking intently at Holly. “There’s a lot more rubble and a huge column blocking my vision, but it looks like you can get past it. I think that’s what Sasha wants me to do,” Holly added watching Sasha spin another circle in place. Holly pushed away some of the rocks in front of her and then dropped down on the other side amidst a shower of dust that caused her to cough. “It’s kind of tight back here,” Holly observed while waving some of the dust away from her face with her hand. “Why don’t you wait there until I come back?” She took a careful step towards Sasha.  
          “No!” James decided aloud. “We should stay together! Hold on!” Holly heard a scrambling sound and then saw James’ head poke through the hole. She held her wand up high so James could see and waited until he had squeezed through. There was a sudden rumble and a new shower of rocks came down. When the dust cleared enough to see, Holly saw there was just enough space for the two to stand up properly but then the opening rapidly closed up to half that height. That was the area where Sasha sat waiting. The cat mewed softly and then ran behind the column disappearing from sight.  
          “I guess we’d best follow her,” he said. Holly led the way at a crouch and James followed. She reached the column and was relieved to note she could stand up straight again. Holly inched her way carefully around the column. Then she held out her wand to see what was ahead… Holly spotted Sasha first; the cat was seated quietly at the far side of another column next to a dusty pile of rubble. Her green eyes seemed to glow and she meowed again softly. Holly approached carefully, touching nothing, afraid that more rocks from above might fall.  
          As she neared, Holly saw the glint of a second set of eyes, someone watching. She suddenly realized that Sasha was not sitting near more rubble, but a motionless human form covered in dust and rubble. “Albus?” she called out hesitantly. “Is that you?” The form didn’t move. Sasha, however, stood and meowed loudly.  
          “Albus?” said James eagerly “You found him?” He pushed up behind Holly anxious to see.  
          “I’m not sure,” said Holly. “There’s so much dust… Stay there,” she added holding her free hand up in James’ chest to prevent him from squeezing past her. “Something’s not right.”  
          Holly took a step forward and knelt for a closer look. The dusty form definitely looked like Albus but it was still, too still. He was seated on the floor cross-legged, hands hidden in his lap, head and back stiffly erect. The unblinking eyes were open, staring straight ahead. A layer of dust and rocks completely covered his hair and clothes.  
          “Albus?” questioned Holly softly. “Is that you?”  
          “Course it is!” asserted James peering over Holly’s shoulder. “Albus, are you all right?” he pushed past Holly and moved up to Albus.  
          “There’s no emotion!” said Holly suddenly.  
          “What?” James paused and looked at Holly in confusion.  
          “No emotions!” she repeated. “He’s there; I see him; but I can’t sense him!”  
          “Oh,” said James blankly clearly seeing no importance in her words. “Let’s worry about that later. We’ve got to get him out of here. Albus!” he said taking hold of Albus’ shoulder.  
          Like an electric light switching on, Holly suddenly felt James’ touch on Albus’s shoulder followed by a flood of emotions!  
          Albus blinked and looked up. “James!” he said with recognition. “Why aren’t you playing?”  
          James released Albus and stared at him in surprise. The question was so unexpected. “The game’s over,” James said finally.  
          “It is?” replied Albus blankly. “Did we win?”  
          “No.”  
          “Oh.” Intense disappointment emanated from Albus. “What happened? We should have won! You were certain we’d win!”  
          “They were, uh, distracted…” put in Holly moving within sight. It was clear Albus knew nothing of the collapse.  
          “Holly?” questioned Albus turning his attention to her. “What are you doing here?” he said radiating confusion. “Where am I?” he added while looking around as if noting his surroundings for the first time. “Was there another plaque?” he asked with sudden panic.  
          “No, Albus,” replied Holly soothingly. His words made her realized how similar to the Riddle Room this must all look to him. “You’re beneath the stadium.”  
          “The stadium? Why?”  
          “There’ll be time for answers later,” interrupted James. “We’ve got get out of here! Come on!” He held out a hand offering to help Albus up. Albus raised his own hand to accept the assistance. As he did so, a small black bottle slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. It shattered scattering shards of glass everywhere.  
          “What’s that?” asked James as they watched the contents of the bottle spread out over the floor.  
          “I, uh, don’t know,” answered Albus honestly. The dark liquid seemed to sparkle and then it soaked into the floor vanishing as if it were never there.  
          “Come on,” urged Holly taking Albus’ other arm to steady him. She could sense the stiffness in his legs and knew he wouldn’t be able to walk without help.  
          Together the two got Albus to the other side of the column. By then Albus was able to stand on his own. James lit his wand and led the way back to the hole in the wall.  
          “What’s happened?” questioned Albus as he followed at a crouch. Neither Holly nor James answered. They reached the wall. James held his lit wand high while Albus helped Holly up and through the hole. More rocks and dust showered down as she landed on the other side. Albus followed.  
          “Something bad has happened, hasn’t it?” Albus concluded out loud while James scrambled through the hole.  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly softly not wanting to explain further.  
          “I didn’t do it!” asserted Albus firmly. Then he added uncertainly, “Did I?”  
          “Of course not,” Holly reassured him. But the question tore at Holly’s heart. Albus clearly had no idea what had happened and no memory of the previous hours. Had Albus done something—something he didn’t remember? What other reason could Albus have for being at the center of the collapse?

*********************

          They were able to make much faster progress on the other side of the hole. James led the way. Holly and Albus followed. Suddenly Holly stopped. “Wait!” she said in a low voice. James and Albus stopped.  
          “What is it?” asked James.  
          Holly didn’t need to reply. Coming into view were several Slytherins. Holly recognized Tom Richards in the lead. His face was smeared with mud and blood; his muddy clothes clung to his body; was one arm was in a sling. Behind him came the complete Slytherin quidditch team. They were covered with mud and blood, but otherwise not injured.  
          The group stopped when they saw Holly, Albus and James. Their faces were grim with emotions to match. Then Richards took a step forward. “Happy now!” he spat at Albus.  
          “Huh?” said Albus in confusion.  
          “You swore someone would “pay” for your owl and we did! Now it’s _our_ turn!” and he reached for his wand. All the Slytherins did!  
          In a single motion both Holly and James drew their wands ready to defend Albus.  
          “HOLD!” came a loud thunderous voice. Everyone turned their heads towards the owner of the voice, Headmistress McGonagall. “PUT YOUR WANDS AWAY!” she commanded forcefully while swiftly walking forward catching up with the Slytherins and coming to a stop between the two groups. Behind her came Professor Lovegood and Professor Longbottom with their wands extended ready for action. All three were covered with mud and blood. “There shall be no spells cast here,” the Headmistress added more calmly looking sternly at all the students.  
          “Professor Longbottom,” continued Headmistress McGonagall ignoring the drawn wands. “Please escort young Mr. Potter to my office and wait with him until I can get there.” Professor Longbottom nodded. He pocketed his wand. “Come on, Albus,” he said gently.  
          Albus looked uncertainly at James. “Go on,” urged James. “It’ll be O.K.” he assured but Holly knew James’ emotions were not as confident as he sounded. Albus walked forward and joined Professor Longbottom. The two began to walk back out of the corridor.  
          James kept his wand drawn and pointed at the Slytherins warily until Albus and Professor Longbottom had moved out of sight. Then he pocketed his wand. Holly put hers away too.  
          “Professor Lovegood,” continued the Headmistress while ignoring the Slytherins. “Will you please secure this area after we leave? Take one of the other Professors and make a thorough investigation and report what you find.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” murmured Professor Lovegood. Her damp blonde hair was matted with mud. The brown colored chameleon “hair-clip” ignored her limp strands of hair and instead sat on the Professor’s shoulder cleaning himself.  
          All eyes turned to the Slytherins. Their wands remained drawn and their emotions were still murderous. “Your friends and classmates need you,” reminded Professor Lovegood gently. “Go to them,” she suggested.  
          For a full minute nothing happened. Then Tom Richards suddenly muttered, “Later!” and he put his wand away. He turned and started walking back the way he had come. The other Slytherins followed putting their wands away as they walked.  
          “Mr. Potter,” said the Headmistress when the Slytherins had vanished from sight. “Would you please escort Miss Wycliff back to her dorms?”  
          “Yes, Ma’am,” nodded James.  
          The two started walking forward when the Headmistress added, “And I trust you will not speak of this until I have had a chance to hear your stories first.”  
          “Yes, Ma’am,” agreed both Holly and James. They stepped silently out of the corridor and walked back onto the field. The field was clear of people now; only the torches, mud and rubble remained, silent reminders of what had happened.  
          Holly wasn’t quite sure how the two managed to get back to the castle. With the field cleared and Albus found, Holly suddenly felt totally exhausted, both physically and emotionally. James was equally tired and still filled with worry. As if in a daze Holly kept putting one foot in front of the other rousing out of her stupor momentarily when Pettigrew’s “cheery” voice welcomed her at the castle entrance. James supported her arm and kept Holly moving forward and up the steps. The two finally stopped outside the portrait of the Judge.  
          Holly stared at it blankly. The Judge liked jokes best of all, but Holly couldn’t think of any. She couldn’t think very clearly at all. She just felt numb all over.  
          “I won’t tell,” assured James mistaking her silence for reluctance to reveal the password, “but I’m not leaving until I know you’re inside safely.”  
          Suddenly the portrait frame swung open of it’s own accord. Becky stepped out. “Oh, good,” she said relieved. “I thought I heard someone out here! Did you find him? Is he all right?”  
          “Yeah,” said James shortly.  
          “That’s everyone then,” Becky reported happily. “No one died!” she added. “Can you believe it? All that damage and no one died! There were some really, really bad injuries but no one died! We're all so very lucky!”  
          “Yes,” agreed James dully. “Very lucky.”  
          “I just don’t understand how something like that could have happened in the first place!”  
          “Me neither,” agreed James. “Thanks for your help,” he told Holly. “I’ve got to get back to my dorm.”  
         “Thanks!” said Holly managing to rouse herself out of her lethargy. James nodded and turned to leave. “James,” said Holly suddenly. He stopped and looked back at her. His eyes had a haunted hollow look to them. “It’ll be all right,” she assured him.  
          “Yeah,” he agreed but his emotions said otherwise.


	27. Chapter 27

          The double knock on the heavy polished door was light but easily heard. “Enter,” commanded Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. The door opened. Prefect Gwen Feinstein and Miss Holly Wycliff stepped into the office. They wore dark formal school robes sporting their Hufflepuff colors. Both girls were pale with dark circles under their eyes indicating a lack of sleep, but then Minerva doubted anyone had slept well the past few days. “Thank you,” she told Miss Feinstein quietly. “Please wait for Miss Wycliff outside,” Minerva added. “I don’t know how long we’ll be. Close the door on your way.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” Miss Feinstein replied softly. Minerva saw her give Holly’s hand a quick squeeze of encouragement. Then Miss Feinstein reached out, grabbed the door latch and backed up while shutting the door behind her.  
          “Have a seat, Miss Wycliff,” invited Minerva kindly indicating the empty chair across from her. Her large office seemed rather crowded today. To her right sat Professor Horace Slughorn, Head of the Slytherin House. Horace’s head and both arms were bandaged; one arm was in a sling and rested, elevated, upon Minerva’s massive desk. Both his bandaged legs were extended out and supported by several puffy pillows placed on a wide stool. Horace’s injuries had been severe, nearly fatal, and he should have remained in the infirmary, but he insisted on being present this day. Minerva guessed Horace was in a lot of pain knowing he had refused any potions that might cloud his judgment.  
          Next to Horace sat Professor Luna Lovegood. Butterbeer cap earrings accented her chartreuse robes. Her long bonde hair was held in place by three small periwinkle blue moths that occasionally shifted their wings back and forth. Minerva noted Luna had dispensed with the oversized glasses she traditionally wore and looked more business-like than usual. Professor Lovegood was present because, well, clearly magic had somehow been involved.  
          On the other side sat Professor Neville Longbottom, head of the Gryffindor House. His usually open, pleasant features were rather grim, an indication of the seriousness of the meeting.  
          Next to him, sat Harry Potter, a Hogwarts Governor and father of the accused. Harry sat stiffly in his chair, his green eyes and impassive face revealed none of the distress Minerva was certain he felt.  
          Holly Wycliff stepped forward and sat in the chair indicated. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. She looked small and frail against all the other adults in the room.  
          Suddenly the girl gave a small gasp and straightened stiffly in her chair. Her eyes seemed to roll upwards.  
          “Holly?” questioned Harry worriedly while leaning forward and placing a hand on her knee.  
          Harry’s behavior suggested that the child was experiencing something “medical” in nature—a “flashback” from the summer. Minerva couldn’t imagine what. Holly had practically begged to go to her office earlier. Though the portraits had never mentioned a word, Minerva was certain Holly had indeed taken the opportunity provided to visit the office that day because she saw Holly smiling happily throughout dinnertime that night, a sure indication that not only had the girl been in the office but that the visit had gone well. More to the point, Holly would have surely requested a meeting at a different location refusing to return to the office had she reason to believe a “flashback” might occur… Minerva would puzzle on that later. In the meantime, she wouldn’t force Holly to relive the horrific events of a few days ago while dealing with something from the summer…  
          “We could do this somewhere else,” Minerva suggested gently, “at a later time…?”  
          Abruptly Holly’s body seemed to relax. She closed her eyes and gulped. “No,” Holly whispered softly. She opened her eyes and looked upwards searching the walls stopping at a point above and to the right side of Minerva before answering. That was the approximate location of the portrait of Headmaster Severus Snape. Then she lowered her eyes and looked directly at Minerva. “I’m O.K.,” she assured Minerva.  
          “You sure?” asked Harry with obvious concern.  
          “Yes,” Holly whispered softly and added, “I want to get this over with.”  
          Minerva nodded considering the matter closed. Holly would surely know whether or not she needed to leave. Harry removed his hand from her knee and leaned back uneasily in his seat while continuing to watch her warily.  
          “Do you know why we asked you here?” Minerva asked Holly gently. Holly again looked towards the Portrait of Headmaster Severus Snape before speaking. Minerva hoped Snape was giving Holly moral support and encouragement somehow. She surely needed it.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly softly looking back at her. “I think so.”  
          “We want you to tell us what happened that day starting from the time James Potter asked for your help.”  
          Holly nodded.  
          “Tell us everything,” added Harry quietly, “even the emotions you felt.”  
          “Oh, come now,” stated Horace grimly. “Any emotions she thought she felt has no validity—”  
          “This is no court of law, Professor,” argued Harry. “We are here to gather information. Miss Wycliff is an acknowledged Empath and what she felt may have bearing on the situation.” He looked at Minerva for support. Minerva sighed inwardly. Already the group was arguing but Harry was right; it was not a court of law and knowing what emotions the girl had felt could shed light on things.  
          “Please include the emotions you felt at the time in your description,” said Minerva ending the discussion. “Information is information,” she told Horace by way of explanation. “We can always debate its merit at a later time.” She knew Holly was a rather strong Empath but suspected Horace still regarded the girl as “Lily,” reincarnated, brilliant at potions but nothing else.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly softly. She looked up at the portraits once more before looking back at Minerva. Then the girl took a deep breath. “James, was worried, ma’am,” she began softly. “Really worried…”

********************

          They listened in silence to Holly’s story until she mentioned the arrival of the Slytherins. “Yes, well, that should be far enough,” interrupted Horace gruffly. He probably did not want to hear her account of the not-so-noble intents of the Slytherin team. “I’ve some questions to ask you.” He shifted around in his chair seeking a more comfortable position. “If you could not sense any other emotions, why did you decide to follow your cat?” he asked. It was clear he thought Holly didn’t think much of her own abilities.  
          “I cannot sense the emotions of those who are sleeping or unconsciousness,” replied Holly softly. “I was hoping perhaps Sasha could smell something I couldn’t sense.”  
          “Of course,” murmured Minerva knowingly. As an animagus cat, she had often experienced heightened senses. Perhaps she should have a conversation with Sasha, cat to cat, to see if she could learn anything else…  
          “And if I understand correctly, you say you saw Albus sitting in front of you yet you _still_ couldn’t sense his emotions?” questioned Horace in disbelief.  
          “That’s right, sir,” replied Holly softly.  
          “And he wasn’t sleeping or unconscious?”  
          “No, sir, he didn’t look it.”  
          “Has this ever happened before?” questioned Minerva quickly before Horace could speak again. Even she could sense Horace’s hostility and she wasn’t an Empath. She shuttered to think what Holly was feeling.  
          “What?” Holly looked up at Minerva with her green eyes.  
          “Have you ever encountered students without an emotion?” Minerva clarified.  
          “No, ma’am, never Albus,” came the soft reply. Holly looked down now, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning.  
          “What about other students?” questioned Horace. He was quick to pick up on the qualified nature of Holly’s answer. “Can you sense the emotions of all the other students?”  
          “No, sir, I can’t,” Holly replied briefly. She began to tug aggressively on the edge of her shirt.  
          “Which ones can’t you sense?” he persisted curiously.  
          “Th—some of the older ones,” Holly replied vaguely. “I, uh, don’t know all their names…”  
          “Several upper level students are enrolled in Occlumency,” put in Luna using a gentle sing-song like voice. “I believe students using Occlumency can effectively block their emotions from an Empath.” One of her moths fluttered off her hair and landed on her shoulder flapping its wings gently.  
          “Yes, ma’am, they can,” replied Holly gratefully. Minerva was impressed. Despite the severity of the situation, the girl obviously did not wish to name the Auror students. Holly needn’t have worried, though. Their identities were kept secret from the general student population, not the professors.  
          “I could provide Miss Wycliff with a list of Occlumency students to compare against those students whose emotions she cannot feel, if you wish,” Luna added speaking to Horace.   She placed her forefinger on her shoulder and coaxed the moth to climb upon it. Then she moved the blue moth gently back to her hair.  
          “That won’t be necessary,” grumbled Horace. “This meeting is not about them.”  
          “No, it isn’t,” agreed Minerva.  
          “Have you ever been near someone who has been placed under the _Imperius Curse_?” questioned Harry changing the subject. His expression had remained stony throughout the recitation. Minerva grieved inwardly for him. No matter how this turned out, the collapse threatened to tear his family apart. It forced family members to testify against each other. Telling the truth could destroy Albus; lying may not help and could destroy the person testifying… An _Imperious Curse_ cast on Albus could be a way out for him, but if only it could be proven.  
          “Of course not,” snorted Horace. Harry ignored the professor and directed all his attention on Holly waiting for an answer.  
          “N-no, sir,” replied Holly thoughtfully. “Not that I know of. Is that what this is?” she suddenly asked eagerly, hopefully. “Did someone put Albus under a curse?”  
          “We don’t know that,” replied Luna softly. Her butterbeer cap earrings swayed back and forth gently as she spoke. “We are here just to gather information. Did you sense the presence of anyone else there?”  
          The girl looked crestfallen at the question. “No, ma’am, I didn’t,” she said.  
          “Were you blocking?” asked Harry.  
          “No,” Holly replied miserably. She tugged harder at her shirt and her eyes seemed to brim with tears. “I’m sorry, sir,” she added while looking at her cousin, “but I just didn’t sense anyone else there.”  
          Harry nodded accepting her answer and apology without comment. “You didn’t sense Albus either,” he reminded her gently. Minerva brimmed with pride. Though it made Albus look worse, Harry hadn’t asked by word or manner that either Holly or James fudge or change their stories.  
          “Tell us again exactly what emotions you felt from Albus after James shook him…” asked Neville.  
          “Well,” Holly took a moment to think, “pain, of course—James was gripping rather hard, and then confusion. Definitely confusion.”  
          “How do you know that the confusion was not coming from James?” asked Horace suspiciously.  
          Holly looked at Horace. She seemed surprised by the question. “James was worried,” she told him, “and relieved when Albus started to move. It was definitely Albus who was confused.” There was no uncertainty in her voice.  
          “What can you tell us about Albus’ physical status at the time?” questioned Neville changing the subject.  
          “Oh, come!” exclaimed Horace. “He had no injuries!”  
          “None that we could see,” argued Neville. “Perhaps there were some we could not see…”  
          “That’s ridiculous!” Horace protested. “Injuries don’t mend that quickly on their own and the child’s no Healer! What could she have noticed that Madam Pomfrey and Healer Winonan didn’t find in their examination?”  
          “I don’t know,” replied Neville calmly, “but I saw her helping at triage with Madam Pomfrey after the collapse.”  
          “As did every able bodied person—except one,” retorted Horace sharply. His unspoken implication and accusation hung heavily in the air.  
          “She has helped with diagnoses before,” reminded Luna serenely. “There was that Megan child last year and the plane crash,”  
          “Muggles!” Horace snorted dismissively.  
          “We are here for information not expertise, Horace,” reminded Minerva diplomatically. It was totally inappropriate for Horace to discuss Holly’s abilities, or lack of them, in front of her as if she weren’t there. Holly, she noted, was steadfastly looking down while tugging fiercely at her shirt and a hint of red had crept up her neck throughout the exchange. Unfortunately, Minerva couldn’t reprimand Horace in front of the child. She could only silence him and perhaps offset his disparaging words.  
          “Madam Pomfrey reported that Miss Wycliff’s recent diagnostics efforts _of wizards_ was of considerable help,” informed Minerva firmly. Madam Pomfrey had actually said the conditions Holly had recited were “spot on” in accuracy. While not complete, the girl’s evaluations had saved both time and lives. Horace seemed clueless about Holly as an Empath and this was neither the time nor place to educate him.  
          “And she was first on the scene,” Minerva reminded Horace in a thoughtful sounding voice. “Any information she may have of Albus’ initial physical condition could be … useful.” Her words effectively ended the discussion. As far as Minerva was concerned Holly was more than qualified to report on Albus’ physical condition at the time he was found. But in his present state of mind, Minerva doubted Horace would believe that.  
           What Horace also may not realize or had perhaps, forgotten, was that while an Empath’s testimony on a person’s mental state was not admissible in court, an Empath’s testimony on a person’s _physical_ state was. The cause of that pain could be questioned, but people just could not “fake” pain.   Anything Holly had to say about Albus’ physical state could be highly crucial, especially if this matter were brought to a wizard court. She hoped things wouldn’t go that far.  
          “Go on,” Minerva encouraged Holly gently. “What can you tell us about his physical condition?”  
          Holly frowned, thinking. Then she brightened. “His legs were really stiff,” she stated. “In fact he would have fallen had James and I not held him up when he tried to stand.”  
          “Oh? And you know this possible falling part from prior experience?” asked Horace sarcastically.  
          “Yes,” said Holly flatly. Her green eyes flashed angrily at Horace.  
          “Were his hands and fingers numb too?” asked Minerva quickly. She could sense a fight brewing between the two and wanted to head it off before it began.  
          Horace leaned back in reluctant silence while Holly looked at Minerva and furrowed her brow. “No, ah, I don’t think so, I mean, I didn’t notice anything—” she broke off and began again, “I don’t know,” Holly concluded miserably certain she had failed in her efforts of observation.  
          Minerva nodded calmly without comment. The answer was unimportant. The pieces of the broken bottle had already been retrieved; they were dusty except for the blank patches where Albus’ fingers had definitely clutched it. Luna had also discovered two other potion bottles near where Albus had sat. They were both open, dusty and nearly empty. The contents of the three bottles, when mixed together, could create powerful explosions. Also found on Albus’ person was a very small potions bottle. The tiny bottle was empty and its previous contents could not be determined but the small size was very suggestive of what it might have contained.  
          “Was there anything else?” she asked encouragingly.  
          “No, ma’am,” replied Holly sorrowfully. “Outside of the confusion and the legs, he seemed physically fine except...”  
          “Yes?”  
          “Well, it’s not really an ailment but it _was_ weird.”  
          “What?”  
          “His eyes!”  
          “What about his eyes?”  
          “Well, there was nothing wrong with them but when he blinked…”  
          “Yes?”  
          “Well, his eyelids were white!”  
          “White?”  
          “Yes, Albus was totally covered in this thick layer of dust but there were these two patches of spotless white when he blinked.”  
          “I don’t remember that,” mused Minerva. She remembered the dust and dirt but nothing odd when he blinked.  
          “I expect it doesn’t mean anything, especially if you didn’t see anything,” concluded Holly in a rather sorrowful tone. “But it was rather strange.”  
          “You and James Potter had your wands out when we first saw you,” said Luna in her serene voice. Her silvery eyes watched Holly intently. “Have you any idea why Albus did not?”  
          Holly closed her eyes and frowned in concentration. “Well,” she began hesitantly. “James was … protective and the Slytherins were,” she opened her green eyes and looked at Horace. “Forgive me, sir,” Holly began again, “but the Slytherins were murderous!” Horace grunted, an unwilling acknowledgment of their emotions at the time. “And Albus was … surprised? Confused?” Holly turned to Luna. “I’m sorry,” she told her regretfully. “I don’t know why he didn’t draw his wand, unless, maybe he didn’t have it?” In fact, Albus Potter had his wand. It was interesting Holly didn’t know that.  
          A long silence followed so Minerva asked. “Are there any other questions?” Everyone looked at each other but no one spoke. “Have you anything else to say?” Minerva asked Holly.  
          “No,” she replied softly, “except … I know how bad this looks for him,” she blurted, “but Albus didn’t do this thing, he couldn’t! I just _know_ it!”  
          “Miss Wycliff,” interjected Horace sternly. “I understand some of the students seem to think you can sense it when people tell falsehoods. Is this true?”  
          “Y-yes sir.”  
          “When Albus stated in your presence that, “he didn’t do this!” was he telling the truth?”  
          “Oh, yes, sir, he was!”  
          “And what were the next words from his lips?”  
          There was a long silence and then Holly whispered, “He s-said, “Did I?”  
          Horace’s voice lowered. “Was he telling the truth then, too?”  
          “Y-yes sir,” she whispered with tears streaming down her eyes.  
          Horace softened his voice and asked, “How can both statements be true?”  
          After a long moment of silence Holly spoke. “I don’t know,” the girl acknowledged softly tipping her head to the floor, her long blonde hair fell down covering the sides of her face as she spoke, “but they are.”  
           Horace shifted his elevated arm restlessly and turned his head to the rest of the group. “That is why,” he concluded out loud, “the testimony of an Empath is not admissible in court.” Holly sniffed and wiped her eyes.  
          Then Horace asked, “Miss Wycliff, were you present in the Great Hall after the owl feathers got clipped?”  
          She looked up at him, her eyes glistened, her cheeks were still wet with tears and strands of blonde hair stuck to her face. “Yes, sir.”  
          “Was Albus Potter angry?”  
          “Y-yes, sir.” Holly’s voice trembled.  
          “Was he very angry?”  
          “Yes, sir,” she admitted softly.  
          “Was he as angry as, say, the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team?”  
          After a long silence Holly dropped her head again. “Yes,” she whispered.  
          “What did Albus say when no one would answer his challenge?” Horace asked Holly directly.  
          “He said th-that, “Someone will _pay_ for this!”  
          “Was he telling the truth then?”  
          Holly kept her head down and didn’t answer.  
          “Well?” demanded Horace.  
          “Yes,” she finally whispered. For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. “Oh, sir!” Holly burst out looking up and speaking directly to Harry. “I’m so sorry!” Harry held out his arms impulsively and Holly literally flew into them. “I didn’t want to say that! He was just so very angry!” she sobbed.  
          “It’s O.K.,” Harry crooned. “You’re just telling the truth,” he told her soothingly and pulled strands of hair out away from her face. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”  
          “But he didn’t mean it that way—I know he didn’t!”  
          “Of course not,” Harry agreed. “It’s O.K.,” he assured her again. “Albus would never want you to lie for him.”  
          Horace looked at the two impassively and said; “I think you are very lucky that the testimony of Empaths is not admissible in court, Harry.”  
          Harry looked around at the group while he gently stroked the quivering body in his arms. “There’s nothing else we need to ask her is there?” His eyes pleaded for them to end Holly’s ordeal.  
          “I think we have heard enough.” Minerva agreed quietly. Hearing no objection, she added, “Thank you for your time, Miss Wycliff. I request you discuss this meeting with no one.”  
          Holly gulped and nodded. “Y-yes ma’am,” she said and stood up.  
          Harry withdrew a handkerchief. “It’ll be O.K.,” he repeated reassuringly as he gently wiped the tears from her face. Then he walked Holly to the door.  
          “At whom were you aiming?” asked Luna suddenly.  
          “What?” Disconcerted, Holly turned and looked at Luna.  
          “When you and Mr. Potter drew your wands,” Luna clarified. Her silvery eyes stared intently at the girl. “At whom were you aiming?”  
          “Uh, at the Slytherins,” Holly replied uncertainly. “Mostly Richards,” she added, “because he was in front, but they were all angry. I was aiming at them all, especially at, uh, whomever would try to cast a spell first!”  
          “Interesting,” murmured Luna and Minerva thought she saw a hint of a smile flash briefly on Luna’s face.  
 _“I wonder what’s that all about,”_ thought Minerva and resolved to question Luna about it at a later time.  
          Harry opened the polished door and Holly stepped through. Minerva saw Prefect Gwen beyond the door hastily stand up to greet Holly.  
          “Thank you for waiting,” Harry told her. Gwen nodded at him. Then Harry closed the door.

********************

          Horace waited until Harry sat down before speaking. “You can’t seriously expect us to believe that your boy didn’t do this when even your own family believe he’s guilty, Harry,” he began.  
          “My own family believe he was there when it happened,” replied Harry quietly. “Not that he was guilty.”  
          “But all the evidence confirms—”  
          “All the evidence confirms that he was there,” continued Harry firmly, “not that he did it.”  
          “You can’t still believe that someone else was there, someone who did this to him not when we have a list of every person present—students, staff and guests, checked and double checked including their whereabouts at the time of the collapse…”  
           Miss Vasari was very thorough indeed when she made her head count. Perhaps she guessed how the information might later be used when she made her list.  
          “Someone did this to him.” said Harry firmly.  
          “Who?” countered Horace. “None of my Slytherins would ever do something like this, especially not to themselves, and no one else at school even remotely has a reason!”  
          “Someone from outside, then,” Harry insisted.  
          “The whereabouts of everyone on the visitor list has been verified from the minute they arrived,” reminded Luna serenely.  
          “Someone not on the list,” persisted Harry.  
          “Oh, come,” interjected Minerva McGonagall. She wanted Albus to be not guilty as did the rest, well, maybe not Horace, but not by creating new lies. “The security at Hogwarts is the best—”  
          “I got in once,” interrupted Harry.  
          “Aberforth would never—”  
          “Of course not,” agreed Harry quickly. “My point is that it’s possible to get into Hogwarts if you really want to.”  
          “And who would want to break into Hogwarts just to find your boy, place him under an _Imperius Curse_ and get him to commit this horrendous crime?” demanded Horace.  
          “Maybe he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time…”  
          “And he just “happened” to be the one person in all of Hogwarts with reason to hate the Slytherins? I think not!” snorted Horace. “It’s easier to believe what really happened—that one very angry boy took things a bit too far! You’re lucky that no one died in the accident or this would be a court case and Albus would be destined for Azkaban for his actions!”  
          “Lucky indeed,” agreed Luna thoughtfully. Two of her moths fluttered up briefly and then landed on new places upon her head. “It’s statistically improbable that no one should have died from such a collapse. Rather odd that Albus should be found in the one place beneath where he would not suffer any injuries either…”  
          “Not odd,” countered Horace. “Planning! Cold blooded planning! Albus mixed the potions—”  
          “Where did he get the recipes?” interjected Neville.  
          “From the Half Blood Prince collection,” replied Horace firmly. “I know these particular potions weren’t printed in the new volumes, but who’s to say there weren’t other recipes not included?”  
          “Albus says!” answered Harry coldly. “Or do you claim that the account he gave, while under the influence of Veritaserum, is a lie?”    
          That had been a dismal experience. They had waited until Horace had recovered sufficiently to be included in the questioning—he insisted on it. Albus had voluntarily taken the Veritaserum, certain he had nothing to hide and then answered most of the questions put to him with “I don’t know,” or “I don't remember…”  
          “So he got the recipe from the restricted section in the library and don’t tell me that isn’t possible just because no one saw him do it,” added Horace swiftly. “I know about that cloak of yours and it’s at this school with your family isn’t it?”  
          Harry did not respond to the accusation which was a good indication that the invisible cloak was indeed somewhere on the grounds.  
          “So he makes the potions,” continued Horace, “sets off the blast and then slips himself some _Oblitus_ , and that potion _is_ in the Half Blood Prince collection, so he won’t be charged with the crime afterwards. We all know the best way to get off scot free from a crime is to claim you were under the effects of the _Imperius Curse_ and blame somebody else!”  
          “There was no _Oblitus_ at the scene,” reminded Harry.  
          “And what do you think was in that tiny bottle they found in his pocket?” countered Horace. “It’s the perfect size for an 8 hour dose of _Oblitus_ …”  
          “There’s no evidence it contained _Oblitus_ …” interrupted Harry.  
          “Wipe it clean before the potion takes effect and no one can prove the _Imperius Curse_ wasn’t used instead! That cleaning spell last performed by Albus’ wand would have worked nicely,” continued Horace.  
          Albus claimed no memory of casting the spell but that didn’t deter Horace.  
          “Why else would he be carrying a bottle that size?” he asked.  
          “You gave me a bottle that size once,” replied Harry icily, “and it didn’t contain _Oblitus_!”  
          “And why would he be carrying a bottle of _that_ around if he wasn’t where he shouldn’t be, doing what he shouldn’t be doing?” countered Horace without missing a beat. Minerva wondered what potion they could be talking about but the conversation was moving too swiftly to ask. “Face it, Harry," Horace continued earnestly, "no matter what you put in that bottle the bottom line is Albus did it—all by himself!”  
          “He was under an _Imperius Curse!”_ insisted Harry.  
          “Cast by whom?”  
          “I don’t know, but Healer Winonan himself examined Albus and says the symptoms all match.”  
          “Every one of those symptoms can be replicated by a potion or potions!” insisted Horace. “And Albus is good enough to do it, too—he proved that last year!”  
          That was a bit of an overstatement. Minerva was under the impression that Horace had been rather disappointed with Albus’ performance in class until _after_ he started mixing potions according to Half Blood Prince modifications.  
 _“Oblitus_ can’t make Albus forget all the advanced preparation it would have taken to accomplish this,” reminded Harry. “How can you persist in believing Albus did this terrible thing when you, yourself, questioned him about every detail you suggest _while he was under Veritaserum_ and Albus denied them?”  
          “Because the boy is _delusional_ , Harry, and Veritaserum cannot separate truth from the delusions of the mind!”  
          Minerva looked at Horace in surprise. This was something new!  
          “There’s no shame in admitting it, Harry,” added Horace kindly in the shocked silence that followed. “It can happen to the best of families. After all, wasn’t Dumbledore’s sister a bit off?”  
          “There is nothing wrong with Albus!” stated Harry flatly in a voice that chilled Minerva to the very bone.  
          “You must have surely seen it coming,” continued Horace in a placating voice. “It started last year with the thestrals and he has gone downhill rapidly ever since.”  
          Minerva drew in a swift intake of breath. Horace was the only one in the room who did not know what had happened in the trophy room two years ago and that Albus most likely _did_ see thestrals! Pity Harry hadn’t seen fit to share that information with Horace; Horace would definitely not believe it now.  
          “The boy has been making wild accusations and denials since the beginning of the year,” Horace added informatively. “He stumbles and falls, time and time again, landing conveniently on a nearby Slytherin, _a Slytherin_ , mind you—the boy doesn’t even have the courtesy to apologize and then has the _nerve_ to claim it wasn’t his fault in the first place! I’ve been there, Harry, I saw most of them happen! There was no one to blame but himself!”  
          “He didn’t stumble like that last year,” put in Neville.  
          “Exactly! He never used to be clumsy and he shouldn’t be now! This is all an act—deliberately done! Albus blames the Slytherins for all those other things he claims happened to him!” Horace continued righteously. “I say that if they happened at all, it is because Albus managed to do them to himself! Hear me out, Harry,” he added noting an immediate response on Harry’s part. “I’m not saying Albus deliberately did them to himself. I think most of them were accidents which he refused to acknowledge and then decided to lay the blame on the Slytherins! It could all be part of some warped vendetta Albus has against the Slytherins! And if Albus honestly can’t remember doing them in the first place then there is something seriously wrong with his mind!  
          “The owl?” murmured Luna. Luna’s butterbeer cap earrings swung gently as she studied Horace intently with her silvery eyes.  
          “Ah, yes, the owl,” continued Horace expansively. “The owl was fine that morning. Every Slytherin was accounted for after that. You did it yourself,” he reminded Luna. “Curious, though, Albus’s whereabouts that day are not so thoroughly documented. Did you know he had some unexpected free time? Some sort of explosion in Divination… Sure, he stuck around to help clean up, but what about afterwards? My point is, the owl wasn’t seriously injured. The feathers will grow back and look at all the sympathy Albus earned for himself by doing it! He’s mentally unbalanced, Harry, and needs to be locked up for his own sake before someone truly dies from his activities!”  
          “How dare you acc—”  
          “Surely Miss Wycliff would have noticed such deceit had Albus clipped the wing feathers himself," interjected Luna serenely preventing what would have been an explosive response by Harry. His fists were clenched and his face had gone white during Horace’s tirade.  
          "Not if Albus forgot himself," argued Horace.  
          "An interesting theory,” agreed Luna thoughtfully before Harry could respond, “but there are some flaws in your logic.”  
          “What do you mean?”  
          “You implied to Miss Wycliff that Albus’ motive for the collapse was the anger he experienced after the owl’s feather’s were clipped.”  
          “Yes?”  
          “It would take much longer than that to brew the explosive potions.”  
          “So he made them in advance!”  
          “Why?”  
          “He’s unbalanced!” reasserted Horace firmly. "Why not?"  
          “When?” Luna persisted calmly and then explained further. “Because of the incident on the train, Albus has not been traveling alone.  He has no opportunity to brew the potions in private.   
          Taylor, Rose and Lily had, of course, been questioned also.  
          "So he made them during the summer and brought them with him," insisted Horace. "These problems have been ongoing since last year. Maybe Albus has had something like this on his mind for a long time and the owl bit was just the last straw.”  
          "Albus' bags were all searched the first night," reminded Neville. "We were looking for the spot remover, remember? You helped me do it. There were no potion bottles of any kind in his possession."  
          “So, he brewed the explosive potions late at night when others were asleep!” persisted Horace after a moment's pause.  
          “Perhaps,” conceded Luna, “but then there is the matter of the missing potions bottle…”  
          “What missing bottle?”  
          “There had to be one more for your theory to work.”  
          “Huh?”  
          “It is true that all the symptoms of an _Imperius Curse_ can be replicated by potions but there were not enough potion bottles left at the site to have accomplished it.”  
          “Of course there were!” insisted Horace. “There were the bottles for the explosives and one for the _Oblitus_. That’s all he needed.”  
          “Actually, he would have needed a potion so he could sit motionless for seven hours.”  
          “What?”  
          “What did Albus do while waiting to be discovered?” continued Luna. “The evidence indicates that he sat—just sat. He sat still for seven hours. His body was completely covered with dust, _undisturbed_ dust. An even layer of dust covered the whole area in which he was found, _undisturbed_ dust. The tracks of the cat, James and Holly led to a dust free patch of masonry where Albus undoubtedly sat. The footprints of the cat, James, Holly and _Albus_ led out. There were no other disturbances in the dust. In addition Albus had stiff legs when trying to stand, another indication that he did not move for a long period of time.”  
          “So he sat,” said Horace obstinately, “that’s possible if you’re really determined.”  
          “Perhaps,” conceded Luna, “but that would not explain the white patches of his eyelids.”  
          “So,” said Horace unconcerned. “What about them?”  
          “They could only be white if Albus did not blink,” Luna explained. She turned her silver eyes to Minerva. “You did not notice the patches of white because Albus had been blinking while in the company of James and Holly; the dust from the surrounding area and the rest of his body traveled to his eyelids as well.”  
          Minerva nodded thoughtfully. That made sense.  
          “Blinking is an automatic function,” reminded Neville to no one in particular. “Albus should have shut his eyes the moment the explosions occurred, or when the dust began to fall. He might have managed to sit still for seven hours, but for his eyes to remain open and not blink during all that time, he needed a freezing potion—or a spell…”  
          “Miss Wycliff was no doubt confused and distressed by the interview,” asserted Horace. “She was probably mistaken with that white eye bit.”  
          “Bring her back,” said Harry promptly. “Put her under Veritaserum. She’ll agree. And she’ll say the same thing. Holly doesn’t lie and she had no idea the importance of her words.”  
          “While it is conceivably possible for Albus to have set off the explosion, drunk the _Oblitus_ , used his wand to clean the bottle and put it in his pocket before the potion took effect and then take a freezing potion, Albus could not have eliminated the freezing potion bottle before freezing in position… Where is that last bottle?” asked Luna.  
          For once Horace was speechless. He could not argue away her logic. Even he knew that freezing potions were nearly instantaneous. “He mixed them,” Horace finally replied. “So he wouldn’t have to carry as many bottles…”  
          “Then where were the side effects?” questioned Luna. “You know there are always side effects when mixing _Oblitus_ with anything before taking it. Only the best of potion masters could have minimized those side effects, but there would have still been side effects that would have made themselves apparent during Healer Winonan’s examination. Therefore, the potions could not have been mixed. There had to be a second person,” continued Luna. “One who took the final potion bottle Albus used and/or froze Albus in that position.”  
          “Someone else _was_ there!” said Harry excitedly, his anger forgotten in light of the new supposition. “Someone who did this to him!”  
          “Or an accomplice!” admitted Horace grudgingly. “Someone who did this _with_ him!”  
          “I would guess _to_ him,” mused Luna out loud.  
          “Why?” asked Horace suspiciously.  
          “Because of the wand,” she answered simply.  
          “Huh?”  
          “Where did you find his wand?” Luna asked Neville.  
          “In his back pants pocket.”  
          “That is not where Albus usually keeps his wand,” she informed the group calmly. “Miss Wycliff felt surprise from Albus because he went for his wand along with the other two and could _not_ find it! He may or may not have performed the last cleaning spell found on his wand but someone else placed the wand in Albus’ pocket, someone who did not know where it usually belonged.”  
          “Or the wand was deliberately misplaced to misdirect us,” said Horace sourly.  
          “This is all too convoluted,” protested Neville. “No matter what else you claim, Albus is still a Gryffindor,” he told Horace. “If he truly did this act, I would expect Albus to stand up and admit it! He would not put himself or his family through this agony.”  
          “That’s true,” agreed Luna. “Deception and misdirection is more in keeping with the nature of a Slytherin.”  
          “An interesting observation,” said Minerva thoughtfully, “and one that must be considered.”  
          “What?!” exclaimed Horace in disbelief.  
          “You have convinced me that this was no rash last minute impulsive act, Horace,” continued Minerva. “The effort to procure or brew the explosive potions proves that. The second person must have done more than remove a potion bottle. If Albus could not or did not brew the explosive potions, who did? Or who gave them to him? That, alone, points to a second person. The missing potion bottle tends to confirm it. As to the identity of the second person, that gets a bit more problematic,” she continued speculatively. “Everyone agrees that only one person, Albus, had cause to hate the Slytherins. So who would help him? No one. At the same time, it is also well known that almost every Slytherin had reason to get Albus in trouble…  
          “Now, wait a minute!” exclaimed Horace. “You can’t pin this on us!”  
          “There was a second person there,” reminded Harry. “There had to be! Why not a very smart Slytherin—one capable of casting an _Imperius Curse_?”  
          “Every one of the Slytherins is accounted for!” protested Horace.  
          “Then we look for someone not on the list!” returned Harry. “Someone else _was_ there and that person is the key to everything!”  
          “But no Slytherin would ever do this to themselves!” Horace asserted.  
          “No one died,” reminded Luna. “Like the owl, those injured _will_ recover and now all sympathies lie in the direction of the Slytherins…”  
          “Pity we didn’t think to use the Marauder’s Map to look for survivors that day,” commented Neville. “We might have spotted someone unexpected and have a better idea who was doing this.”  
          “It’s missing,” announced Harry calmly. Both Neville and Luna raised their eyebrows in surprise.  
 _“What was this Marauder’s Map?”_ wondered Minerva.  
          “Since when?” asked Luna.  
          “Since the day of the collapse,” replied Harry. “James can’t find it and Albus can’t remember anything about it. But Lily said she saw Albus put it in his pocket before they left for the game…”  
          “No wonder you’ve been so sure someone else was involved,” speculated Luna. “Albus would never willingly give up that map.”  
          “What is this map you’re talking about?” questioned Horace. He was plainly as confused as Minerva.  
          “It shows the whereabouts of every person at Hogwarts,” explained Harry briefly. “And apparently someone who doesn’t want to be seen now has it. This can’t be resolved without finding that second person,” continued Harry urgently addressing Minerva. Minerva nodded. “Agreed,” she said. That second person could settle once and for all whether Albus had been a willing participant or a victim. “Now, any ideas how we can identify this person?” There was a moment of silence as everyone looked around at each other in the chamber.  
          “Unfortunately,” began Luna softly. “It might be better if the person in question does not know if we are looking for him or her…”  
          “That is easily done,” replied Minerva. “These proceedings are kept secret for a reason. We need not announce any of our findings unless we wish to. I believe everyone here can be counted on to not reveal to anyone what was discussed in this room, especially the missing bottle or the possibility of a second person.” Minerva glanced sternly around the room and caught the nods of agreement from everyone though Harry’s nod was rather slow in coming. She understood. He would have wanted to reassure Albus and his family, give them cause for hope and now he couldn’t.  
          “But what about Albus?” questioned Harry worriedly confirming Minerva’s assessment of Harry. “He’d have to walk about thinking that we think—”  
          “He is already under a shadow and will remain so until the second person is found,” put in Neville.  
          “It’s more than a shadow!” maintained Horace. “The Slytherin students are totally convinced Albus is guilty and no amount of talking on my part will persuade them otherwise, not that I would bother trying. Even if I could discuss this second person theory with them I doubt they would believe it. I don't even believe it," he openly admitted. "And it’s not just the Slytherins. Everyone knows where Albus was found and what that means. Frankly, it isn’t safe for Albus at Hogwarts right now!”  
           Since his examination by Healer Winonan, Albus had been kept in seclusion in Madam Pomfrey’s private observation room. James and Rose were currently with him.  
          “I suggest he be confined to the dorms until the holidays,” said Luna serenely. She pulled up a few strands of hair and held them beneath a moth waiting for it to grasp the hairs with its legs. “It is only a few weeks,” she added. “Rose and Taylor could take him his work and he can make up the rest later.”  
          “That sounds extreme since he is innocent,” began Harry.  
          “But we don’t _know_ that he is innocent,” interrupted Luna. “That is only a supposition. Albus _was_ angry and his part in all this is still unclear. The confinement would give us time to continue the investigation and search for this second person. Professor Slughorn maintains Albus is unbalanced,” added Luna serenely. “That concern must be addressed as well. A second visit by Healer Winonan might be in order," Luna looked at Harry for confirmation; he nodded readily in agreement. "And Neville could arrange for Albus to remain in the company of a sixth or seventh year at all times. They would be able to report any unusual behavior on Albus’ part that might indicate mental instability.” Horace nodded an approval to both suggestions no doubt pleased that his assessment of Albus was being taken seriously. "In addition, Albus’ visible absence from the school grounds would keep him safe and might give Slytherin tempers a chance to cool off.”  
          “They want him expelled or worse!” growled Horace.  
          “No one was killed,” Minerva reminded him. “You might remind your students that the decision is not theirs to make. Besides, there is a precedent for not expelling those believed to have committed serious acts—one set by Tom Richards…” An action recommended by Harry Potter at the time, but Horace didn’t know that.  
          “I suppose this could all work,” Horace nodded, mollified, “but you’d have to make sure he couldn’t use that cloak and sneak out sometime!” he added as an afterthought directing the comment to Harry. Everyone looked at Harry. He stared back. Then he took a deep breath and nodded. His face was impassive but Minerva could tell he wasn’t happy with the suggestion, no doubt didn’t like the thought of Albus being confined either. But he didn’t argue. It wasn’t necessary that Harry agree, the decision of confinement was not his to make either but it helped that Harry did not oppose it.  
          “Then it is agreed,” concluded Minerva. “We’ll put the word out that Albus will be confined to the dorms until the Holidays. What kind of a response do you think the Slytherin students will have to that, Horace?”  
          Horace shifted in his seat wincing as he did so. “Frankly?” he asked. Minerva nodded and waited calmly for his answer. Horace gave an apologetic glance towards Harry before speaking. “They’ll think it’s a dodge—special allowances made because he’s a Potter!”  
          “Exactly!” said Minerva and had the satisfaction of seeing the look of surprise on Horace’s face. She had long known of the open Slytherin resentment of the Potter family ever since James had stepped foot in Hogwarts. It was nice to be able to put that resentment to good use. “Be good enough to not discourage that opinion, Horace. Perhaps the person we are seeking will assume there is no actual investigation going on and drop his or her guard… Neville,” Minerva added, “make sure the Fat Lady knows Albus is not to leave the dorm and see that he is not left alone. If anything else happens I do not want any doubt cast upon Albus as the culprit.” Neville nodded.  
          “Horace,” Minerva continued, “if this was an act of impulse, then that means Albus did not brew those potions. And if he did not brew them then the potions had to be obtained from somewhere. Perhaps you could locate the source of the potion.” Horace nodded. “And Luna,” added Minerva, “enlist whatever help you need to find that second person.” Luna nodded as well. Her earrings swayed with the motion. “In addition,” continued Minerva, “Harry maintains an _Imperius Curse_ was used. Would you arrange for Miss Wycliff to be near someone under the influence of the _Imperius Curse_?” Luna nodded.  
          “That tells us nothing!” protested Horace.  
          “It tells us if the _Imperius Curse_ is even possible as a cause,” explained Minerva cutting off further comment. “Now I know you don’t take much stock in Miss Wycliff’s empathic abilities,” she added, “but Harry does. If Luna cannot duplicate what Miss Wycliff felt through use of the _Imperius Curse_ then Harry will have to concede that events happened some other way—such as through the use of potions.” Minerva looked to Harry for confirmation and was pleased to see his reluctant nod of agreement. “Now,” Minerva continued for Harry’s sake, “if she succeeds in replicating the emotions, then the _Imperius_ _Curse_ is still a viable possibility—possibility only,” she added swiftly before Horace could object, “which could only be confirmed after we locate this second person.  
          Speaking of which,” she added not giving anyone time to comment. “If the second person is not from Hogwarts, and I hope that is the case, then perhaps you can narrow down the field from the outside.” Minerva looked directly at Harry as she spoke and was rewarded with a gleam of hope in his eyes. Her words had transformed Harry from a helpless parent to a participant assisting in the search for the truth. It gave Harry purpose. He needed that. “Look for someone with a motive and opportunity…but quietly!” she added. That should keep him busy. Despite his hero status, Harry had quite a few enemies. Frankly, though, Minerva doubted any would bother framing a thirteen-year-old boy.  
          “Yes ma’am,” replied Harry. He rose from his chair to leave as Luna turned to Neville.  
          “Any ideas where to begin on finding this second person?” she asked him.  
          “Actually, yes,” Neville replied, much to Minerva's surprise.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Miss Wycliff has complained she has had a difficult time entering the Room of Requirement. It occurs to me that our unknown visitor might be residing there…”


	28. Chapter 28

          “Hey, Coz, how’s it going?” James had come up to Holly during breakfast the day after her meeting with the Headmistress and professors. His voice was light and friendly but it couldn’t mask the overwhelming worry Holly could sense he felt beneath the surface.  
          “Fine,” lied Holly. She would never add her own problems to James' burdens. Actually, Holly’s head hurt from all the intense emotions surrounding her. Blocking didn’t seem to work as well as it used to. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all the past few days—the other students in her dorm kept on waking with nightmares—which, of course, woke Holly up. She would lie awake with her heart pounding overwhelmed by emotions not her own. Holly would then stroke Sasha, reach for that comforting purr and try to use it to calm herself enough to get back to sleep. The effort hadn’t worked too well. Invariably, just as Holly was dropping off to sleep, someone else would wake Holly with another nightmare…  
          “Can we talk?” James asked quietly.  
          Holly nodded and forced the last bits of food on her plate into her mouth. Worry about Albus, her own sense of guilt for, in effect, testifying against him and lack of sleep no doubt all contributed to Holly’s lack of appetite.  
          “I’ll be with James a while,” Holly told Susan as she stood. Becky and Mark were still out feeding the Roc.  
          Hagrid may call it “Tweedy Bird,” but no one else did. The Roc was downright vicious! Recently it had been attacking anything that moved—including its “parents!” That made feeding it a very tricky endeavor indeed. Becky quit feeding the Roc after it nearly nipped the beak off of her “Parent” Roc costume. Becky had lost her balance and fallen into the Roc nest in a tangled heap. Fortunately, the Roc was too busy eating the food that came with Becky to notice. Mark managed to dive in and grab Becky helping her get out of the nest before the Roc started looking for more food. As a result, Becky flew up with Mark, held the food and handed it to over Mark to deliver. Mark would swoop in, drop the food and swoop back out without getting caught.  
          The Roc no longer ate rabbits. It had graduated to small sheep. Fortunately, their torment as pseudo-parents would be soon over. The Roc was seen flapping its wings aggressively and would soon begin to fly. It had to be delivered to its new home before that time. Hagrid was busy with the representative of the Department of Endangered Magical species planning its safe removal. Any day now, nest and bird would be gone.  
          Holly pulled her robe around her shoulders tightly and the two had headed outside. She knew that meant listening to Pettigrew upon her return, but the alternative was walking towards the dungeon near the Slytherin dorm. Holly decided Pettigrew’s high-pitched squeak was preferable to encountering angry vengeful Slytherin students. With Albus confined, anyone related to him was target for their wrath.  
          “Can you hold something for us?” asked James when they had left the castle entrance and had walked several meters without seeing anyone.  
          “Uh, yeah, I suppose,” replied Holly. “What is it?”  
          James reached under his shirt and Holly caught sight of something silvery.  
 _"What is it?"_ she heard Mrs. Figg ask as Holly quickly closed her eyes trying to shut out Mrs. Figg’s image and rush of emotions that suddenly filled her mind: grief at the loss of family and friends; and the realization she was truly alone in the Tom Riddle world. Holly knew James would never willingly give up that cloak so it meant he was truly gone—he and everyone she knew with him. Yet James stood next to Holly handing her the cloak—James, alive and well! Holly’s mind wrangled with the inconsistency.  
          “You O.K.?” James asked sharply.  
          Holly suddenly sensed a new layer of concern from the person near her. It, along with his familiar voice, reinforced how very much _alive_ James was.  
          “Holly?” James asked with true worry.  
          “Uh, yeah,” Holly forced herself to say. “Just give me a moment.”  
          “O.K.,” said James uncertainly. He stood quietly besides Holly waiting. Slowly the flood of emotions subsided and Holly was able to think more clearly. Still keeping her eyes tightly shut, Holly reached out impulsively and touched James reassuring herself he was truly there and not some sort of mirage.  
          “It’s some sort of flashback, isn’t it?” James guessed and Holly nodded. “I’m sorry,” James added sincerely. “I should have remembered you had the cloak during the summer. Forget it,” he told her. “We should go back.” He turned towards the castle.  
          “No,” said Holly quickly. She opened her eyes and grabbed James arm to prevent him from leaving. “It’s O.K. I’m O.K. It’s just that—” Holly swallowed, at a loss for words. “But why?” Holly finally asked instead. She released his arm but kept her head down not daring to look directly at James or the cloak.  
          “Dad says we can’t keep the cloak in the dorms while Albus is there,” James replied. “I don’t know,” he added thoughtfully, “maybe they think he’ll take it and sneak out or something though I can't imagine why… Anyway, I thought this way the cloak would still be at Hogwarts should we need it…”  
          “Yes, of course,” agreed Holly looking up at James and his worried brown eyes. Holly was very relieved it was James she saw and not a frightened version of Mrs. Figg. Holly took a deep breath. Then she reached out and took hold of the slippery material. “I’ll keep it safe for you,” Holly assured him. She ran her fingers lovingly over the cloak savoring its distinctive sensation of water woven into material remembering all the times it had saved her life.  
          “How is Albus?” Holly asked as she transferred the cloak to beneath her shirt. She hadn’t seen Albus since the day of the collapse.  
          James frowned. “Not good,” he replied. “He just sits and stares out the window towards the quidditch pitch. I just wish I could find out who did this to him and why!”  
          “Me too!” agreed Holly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”  
          James knitted his brow in thought. “Keep your eyes, ears and your senses, or whatever, open," he answered. "Let me know if you learn anything. The Headmistress says they’re still “investigating” but the Slytherins are already saying it’s just an excuse to avoid suspending Albus. Short of finding the actual person who did this I’m not certain just what they could do anyway. I’ve asked around looking for a second person but no one takes me seriously. I guess everyone believes the Slytherins,” James added mournfully.  
          “Yeah,” agreed Holly. “She had sensed a certain cooling of emotions whenever Albus’ name was mentioned. Did you ask your dad about the meeting?”  
          “I did,” James replied, “but he said he couldn’t talk about it. Dad says Albus shouldn’t worry and it’ll all be O.K.,” James added. “He said that to all of us. But dads are supposed to say things like that.”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Holly. “They are. Maybe he’s right…”  
          “I hope so.” The two of them turned around and started walking back towards the castle.

 ********************

          “I can’t do it!” Holly whispered anxiously to Professor Lovegood after class. “I just can’t do it!”  
          Professor Lovegood frowned slightly as she adjusted her oversized black-rimmed glasses studded with blue and gold colored rhinestones. “Are you sure?” she asked looking down at Holly. Her purple radish earrings swayed back and forth gently.  
          “Yes!” assured Holly with near panic crossing her features. “Not even after hours!” The class was working with boggarts and everyone was in the practice room trying their hand at the _riddikulus_ spell. Holly had spent her time in the main room trying to decide who had scared her more—Lord Voldemort or Wizard Flint. Then she realized what frightened her most was having another flashback! Holly couldn’t begin to imagine what a boggart might draw out of her mind to create it, and was certain if she had a flashback she’d never get out of it! “Give me any score you wish,” Holly added desperately, “but I can’t face a boggart! I just can’t!”  
          Professor Lovegood studied Holly thoughtfully with her silvery eyes. She didn’t seem overly upset by Holly’s flat out refusal. “Is this a medical thing?” the professor finally asked.  
          “Yes!” Holly nodded gratefully knowing Professor Lovegood wouldn’t inquire further. Just thinking about boggarts and what they could do made Holly’s heart race uncontrollably.  
          “Then I shall have to think of something else for you to do during your wand practice time, if your classmates are agreeable,” Professor Lovegood indicated with a nod of her head towards Mark and Becky. They were just outside the class waiting for Holly to finish.  
          “They will be,” assured Holly fervently. She'd make sure of it. Anything to get out of boggarts!  
          “Then I shall expect you at the usual time.”  
          “Yes, ma’am.”

 ********************

          Accordingly, while not knowing what to expect, the three had gone to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for Holly’s make-up wand practice session.  
          “I would like Miss Smith and Mr. Owens to review some spells that they have previously learned,” Professor Lovegood told the three. Mark and Becky nodded. Holly bit her lip in disappointment. She didn’t practice spells against her classmates so even though it was supposed to be _her_ wand time that meant no wand practice for her.  
          “Miss Wycliff,” Professor Lovegood turned fixing her silvery eyes on Holly, “I want you to observe and report their emotional responses to the successful use of each spell practiced—everything.” Professor Lovegood removed a piece of parchment from her desk and a blue and green colored quill. “You might wish to take notes,” she advised Holly. “I shall want a detailed report on your observations.” Holly nodded.  
          Professor Lovegood then led the three to the practice room behind the mirror. “Miss Smith and Mr. Owens, please pair off,” she instructed. Becky and Mark took their positions on the floor. “Miss Wycliff,” she added, “you may sit down.” Professor Lovegood indicated a pair of lounge chairs placed against the wall. Holly selected one and sat down cross-legged. She placed the parchment against her knee and lifted the quill in readiness. Professor Lovegood sat down on the other chair and pulled out a crossword puzzle. “I presume you are not blocking?” Professor Lovegood inquired calmly while she turned the puzzle book upside down, thumbed through the pages and selected a puzzle.  
          “No, ma’am, I’m not,” replied Holly. She didn’t need to block around Becky, Mark or Professor Lovegood.  
          “Are you ready Miss Smith and Mr. Owens?” Professor Lovegood pulled out a quill as she spoke and both students raised their wands in readiness.   
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Mark while Becky nodded her head.  
          “Very well. We shall start with the Impediment Jinx. Mr. Owens, on my command you may cast your spell first.” Mark nodded.  
          “Are you ready, Miss Wycliff?” asked Professor Lovegood.  
          Holly closed her eyes to eliminate distractions. Both Becky and Mark were full of nervous anticipation. “Yes, ma’am,” Holly replied.  
          “Begin … now!”  
          Holly felt a familiar build-up of emotion culminating when Mark shouted _“Impedimenta!”_ There was a brief flash of surprise and Becky’s emotions winked out. Holly opened her eyes and looked for Becky. She stood across from Mark, frozen in one place, her eyes wide open with an expression of surprise on her face. Mark lowered his wand to await her recovery.  
           “Very good, Mr. Owens,” called out Professor Lovegood  while she filled out a word in her puzzle. He smiled at the praise. “Do you sense Miss Smith’s emotions?” asked the professor curiously.  
          “No, of course not,” replied Holly. She had managed to catch an Auror student or two with this jinx and already knew what would happen.  
          “How long will she be immobilized?” questioned Professor Lovegood.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Holly, “a minute or two?” Professor Lovegood did not respond returning her attention to her puzzle. Holly took the hint and started counting off the seconds.  
          After a few minutes, Becky blinked and Holly felt sudden awareness from her.  
          “Do you sense any side effects?” asked Professor Lovegood while filling in a letter.  
          “No, not really,” said Holly.  
          “What does “not really” mean?”  
          “Uh, there’s some disorientation, of course, but that’s about it.”  
          “Did you write that down?” In response, Holly diligently began to write. When Holly stopped writing Professor Lovegood said, “Your turn, Miss Smith.”  
          Becky nodded and cast her own jinx. It took several tries before Becky’s spell actually immobilized Mark. This time Holly was ready and began to count off the seconds…  
          Professor Lovegood had Becky and Mark practice the jinx several times until Holly had confirmed and recorded all pertinent details. She also noted any differences from when Mark used the spell and when Becky used it. (Mark recovered more swiftly than Becky…) Then the professor casually asked if it was possible to wake someone up before the spell had worn off… Holly glanced curiously at Professor Lovegood who had begun a new crossword. Becky obligingly went up and shook Mark’s shoulder but to no avail. He woke up only the after the jinx had worn off.  
          Then Professor Lovegood told Becky and Mark to practice other spells, making sure they did each one often enough to insure Holly was able to note and record all reactions.  
          Holly watched the response to each spell avidly. She had suddenly realized that each spell Professor Lovegood instructed Mark and Becky practice was a type that would immobilize the recipient. That’s what had happened to Albus! It had to have! Holly was certain this assignment was more than just busy work. Professor Lovegood was giving her the opportunity to identify, if possible, the spell used on Albus!  
          So far, none matched what she had experienced with Albus. _Stupefy_ left both Mark and Becky with a collection of bruises and a massive headache when they awoke. _Petrificus Totalus_ and _Locomotor Mortis_ flattened them like pop-sickles freezing them totally in place down to the opened eyes, but their bodies could not be bent into a seated position and their minds remained totally active—Holly easily felt frustration from both Mark and Becky when under the spell.  
          None of the spells attempted could be undone with a shake on the shoulder. Some wore off naturally while others required a spell reversal.  
          “I know it’s late,” murmured Professor Lovegood in that soft voice of hers as she put her book away and rose from her chair to face Becky and Mark. Holly stood also stretching her legs in the process. She had been sitting a long time. “But there is one more spell that Miss Wycliff should evaluate to complete her report.” Holly held her breath waiting to see what Professor Lovegood would say next. “It isn’t a spell you have learned,” the professor added, “nor one I will teach, but it is one, which it might be advisable for an Empath to learn to recognize, if such a thing is possible.  
          “What is it?” asked Becky curiously.  
          “It is called the _Imperius Curse_.”  
          Holly let out her breath. That was it! The one Cousin Harry thought might have been used on Albus! He hadn’t actually said so, but why else would he have asked that question?  
          “T-that’s _Unforgivable!_ ” said Mark uncertainly.  
          “Yes,” agreed Professor Lovegood calmly, “but I have permission to use it this time for the benefit of Miss Wycliff. However, I will need both of your assistance to demonstrate it for her,” she added.  
          “Why is it unforgivable?” asked Becky curiously.  
          “When you’re under the _Imperius Curse_ , you’ll do whatever the person who cast the curse tells you to do,” explained Holly. She had heard about _Imperius Curse_ from Roland but had also looked it up for more specifics after what Cousin Harry had said.  
          “Lord Voldemort and his supporters made extensive use of the _Imperius Curse_ to get people do his bidding,” added Professor Lovegood. “Casting the _Imperius Curse_ , even for instructional purposes, is not to be taken lightly and I will not force you to take part if you do not wish. Are you willing to help?”  
          “I guess so,” replied Becky uncertainly.  
          “Count me in,” said Mark stoutly. “I’ve always wondered what it felt like.” He hadn’t but Holly appreciated his words anyway.  
          “Will it hurt?” Becky asked rather fearfully. She still hurt from some of the other spells they had practiced.  
          “Not in the least,” assured Professor Lovegood. “Ready?” she asked raising her wand.  
          Becky squished her eyes shut and tensed her body for the unknown. “Ready,” she replied in a firm voice though Holly knew she didn’t feel “ready” at all.  
          Professor Lovegood shifted her attention to Holly. “Are _you_ ready?” she asked regarding Holly intently with her silvery eyes.  
          Holly closed her eyes and concentrated on the emotions around her: the curiosity of Mark, the whispery softness of Professor Lovegood and the uncertain nervousness of Becky. Then she nodded her head. “Ready!”  
 _“Imperio!”_   Without a word Mark turned and started running along the wall of the room.  
          Becky opened her eyes at the sound of his steps and looked. “You didn’t order him to do anything!” she said with surprise.  
          “Actual vocal words of instruction are not necessary with the _Imperius Curse_. Intent and purpose come with the curse,” informed Professor Lovegood. Mark rounded the corner and kept running.  
          “Mark? Can you hear me?” questioned Becky anxiously as he ran. Mark did not respond.  
          “He may hear you,” said Professor Lovegood softly, “but your words are unimportant. Does that sound familiar?”  
          “Oh, yes,” breathed Holly, “but it’s all wrong!” she added quickly.  
          “Oh? In what way?”  
          “It’s the emotions!” wailed Holly. “I can _feel_ him! I mean it’s all different and everything, nothing like Mark at all, actually, but I can _still_ sense him! I couldn’t feel anything at all from Albus,” she added. “Nothing! I’m sorry!” sobbed Holly. “I was certain it must be the _Imperius Curse_ that put him under the stadium but it couldn’t have been! I don’t think it could have been any spell! I _so_ wanted to help Albus but I’ve only made things worse!”  
          Becky looked at Holly with new interest. It was the first time Holly had breathed a word about finding Albus that fateful day but Holly didn’t care if Becky heard something she shouldn’t, Holly was too upset.  
          Professor Lovegood frowned slightly. “Then it is good you weren’t asked to help Albus,” she reminded softly, “but instead merely observe the emotional reaction of someone under a spell. You say you can feel his emotions?”  
          “Y-yes, ma’am,” replied Holly wiping the tears from her face.  
          “And they’re not the same?”  
          “No, ma’am.”  
          “In what way?”  
          “They’re sort of warm and fuzzy: happy.”  
 _“Imperio!”_ commanded Professor Lovegood a second time. Becky immediately began to cry. The tears seemed so real it was painful to listen to.  
          “Becky!” cried Holly impulsively, her own tears forgotten. She took hold of Becky’s shoulders and pulled her near. “Stop it!” Holly commanded. But Becky continued to cry oblivious of Holly’s efforts.  
          “What about Miss Smith’s emotions?” queried the professor.  
          Holly released her hold on Becky and looked at her friend intently. “Well she’s sad, but she’s happy too, like Mark,” Holly replied. “I don’t know how Becky can be both, but she is! It’s pretty creepy! Wait a minute!” exclaimed Holly as Mark passed by on his third time running around the room. “Mark! He’s still under the curse! How can you curse them both at the same time like that?”  
          “It was done one at a time,” informed Professor Lovegood calmly. “The curse comes with a command,” she explained softly. “The person so cursed continues to obey the command with or without the presence of the one who cast the curse. It follows then that a wizard is free to cast the _Imperious Curse_ continuously, one person at a time….” The two watched Mark silently as he finished the third lap and began his forth.  
          “How long will he continue running?” asked Becky suddenly. Mark was finishing his forth lap when she spoke. Becky’s emotions had abruptly returned to normal; she clearly had no idea that only moments earlier she had been sobbing uncontrollably.  
          “He will run until the command has ended or I tell him to stop,” answered Professor Lovegood quietly while returning her attention to Mark. Mark completed the lap without slowing or showing any sign of weariness and began another. “But perhaps if he were prevented from running,” she mused thoughtfully. The Professor lifted her wand, _“_ _Impedimenta!”_ she shouted pointing the wand at Mark. Immediately Mark’s legs froze in place and he fell forward landing on the floor with a loud thud! “Did he feel that?” questioned the professor.  
          “No!” whispered Holly as she stared at Mark. Mark lay still on the floor momentarily and then used his arms to drag himself forward. Holly watched in horror as Mark continued to crawl forward several paces. After a few meters Mark picked himself up off the floor and his wobbly legs continued moving forward shaking off the remnants of impedimenta spell. His gait steadied and Mark continued to run as if the fall had never happened. Mark’s glasses were askew and Holly could see a trickle of blood coming from his nose as he neared. How could he not feel that bloodied nose? The trio silently watched while Mark completed his sixth lap and passed them by intent on running yet another lap.  
          “Surely he’ll get too tired to continue!” exclaimed Becky worriedly as Mark continued to run without showing signs of weariness.  
          “Is Mr. Owens tired?” questioned Professor Lovegood as Mark began his seventh lap.  
          “No!” admitted Holly reluctantly. “Not at all! He’s just— _happy!_ ” Holly shivered. His happiness was unnerving.  
          “Then he will run until he can run no more—well past the normal limits of exhaustion,” concluded Professor Lovegood. She didn’t need to add that unless stopped, Mark would continue to run until he dropped dead! Abruptly Professor Lovegood brought up her wand and pointed it at Mark. She said nothing but Mark came to a full halt near them standing still and at attention.  
          Holly and Becky moved closer to Mark. His face glistened with sweat but he showed no other outward sign of his earlier exertions. “Mark?” questioned Becky uncertainly staring at him closely. She touched Mark lightly on the arm. “Mark?” she repeated. “Can you hear me?” Mark did not answer. He didn’t move at all. “He isn’t even blinking!” Becky exclaimed.  
          “No,” agreed Professor Lovegood looking significantly at Holly. Albus hadn’t been blinking either. “How does he feel now?”  
          Holly closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. Mark didn’t feel pain or weariness or anything—just “Happy,” whispered Holly sorrowfully and she opened her eyes again. Albus hadn’t felt “happy.” He hadn’t felt like anything at all.  
          “I would not mention your ability to recognize the _Imperius Curse_ while in use to anyone!” advised Professor Lovegood thoughtfully. “A dark wizard might not take kindly to the notion that the _Imperius Curse_ he cast could be so easily detected from the outside.” Holly nodded in agreement.  
          “How do you bring Mr. Owens out of it?” asked Professor Lovegood abruptly changing the subject.  
         “Well, the books don’t really talk about that part since you’re not supposed to be doing it in the first place,” began Holly thoughtfully. “Cousin Harry somehow threw off the curse almost immediately,” Holly added.  
          “Really? How do you know that?” questioned Becky curiously. “Did he tell you?”  
          “No, of course not! I read it in one of Lynette’s Harry Potter biographies,” Holly added with a bit of a blush. Holly still tutored Lynette and Lynette had a whole stack of Harry Potter material. “The Curse was put on students as part of a class demonstration and Cousin Harry was the only one to throw it off,” Holly continued, “but I don’t think that’s going to happen here,” her voice trailed off while staring at Mark who still stood at attention without blinking.  
          “The curse must weaken with time, though,” Holly added thoughtfully, “because people can supposedly throw it off after a while… but I don’t know how much time it takes to weaken. Maybe a person builds up a resistance to it like you can get used to food with hot sauce in it if you eat enough of it.” Holly liked her curry _really_ spicy now.  
          “That could take a while,” commented Professor Lovegood. “I’ve heard some people have been kept under the curse for months, maybe even years.”  
          “No doubt the person who cast the curse can always lift it, too.” Holly looked hopefully up at Professor Lovegood. She ignored Holly’s unspoken request; her silvery eyes regarded Holly without expression.  
          “Maybe it just wears off like some of the other spells did,” put in Becky looking worriedly at Mark.  
          “Perhaps it does…,” replied Professor Lovegood calmly. “It seems there is more than one way to shake this curse. I believe yours wore off,” she added looking directly at Becky.  
          “Mine?” questioned Becky quickly. “I wasn’t under the curse!” she denied stoutly.  
          “Um, you were,” corrected Holly. “You were sobbing your eyes off for a while!”  
          “I was?” questioned Becky in disbelief.  
          “You were,” affirmed Holly.  
          “That curse wasn’t cast with much intent,” mused Professor Lovegood. “Intent has a great deal to do with the strength of the _Imperius Curse_. No doubt the curse is at its weakest when a command has been completed. At that point, the one casting the curse must provide a new command thus renewing the curse or permit the curse to wear off on its own given enough time,” she added thoughtfully. “Mr. Owens has been waiting for some time for a new command and my intent is no longer there,” she informed them. “Perhaps a shake on the shoulder will now bring him out of it.”  
          Becky obligingly reached out and grabbed Mark’s shoulder. “Hey, Mark,” she began, “wake up!”  
          Mark suddenly blinked and looked at Becky. “Huh?” he said in confusion. He turned to Professor Lovegood. “We’re ready,” he told her. “Are you going to cast the curse?”  
          “She did,” informed Becky. “On both of us!”  
          “How do you feel?” Professor Lovegood asked Mark before he could respond to Becky’s news.  
          “Uh, fine?” he answered uncertainly as he reached out and automatically straightened the glasses on his face. “OW!” Mark suddenly exclaimed after his glasses struck the bridge of his nose. His hand immediately went up to his nose. “How did that happen?” he asked when he removed his hand and looked in disbelief at the blood on his fingers.  
          “You fell,” Becky informed him.  
          “I did?” questioned Mark. “I don’t remember…”  
 _“Episkey!”_ said Professor Lovegood while pointing her wand at Mark’s nose. “That should help,” she told him.  
          “Yeah, it does,” agreed Mark bringing his hand again to his nose. “Thanks,” he added though still clearly confused by presence of the initial injury.  
          “Does he feel any muscle fatigue?” queried Professor Lovegood of Holly.  
          Holly stared intently at Mark. "No,” she replied.  
          “Why should I feel muscle fatigue?” questioned Mark.  
          “You just ran around the room,” informed Holly.  
          “No, I didn’t,” argued Mark. “Did I?” he asked suddenly as he realized both Holly and Professor Lovegood seemed very serious. Holly was painfully reminded of Albus asking the same things, with the same jumble of confused emotions.  
          “You did,” assured Holly.  
          “Several times,” assured Becky, “and you’re not even out of breath!”  
          “Oh,” replied Mark. His emotions shouted out total disbelief.  
          “Have you enough information to complete your report?” questioned Professor Lovegood in a business-like tone reminding Holly of their original purpose together.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly promptly. Holly had no idea whether or not she did but intended to make do with the information she had. She would not ask the Professor to cast another _Imperius Curse_ on her friends. The experience had been most disquieting.  
          “Then that is all for tonight,” the professor said while pocketing her wand. “I shall expect your paper before the end of the week, Miss Wycliff. Please do not discuss this evening with any but Miss Smith or Mr. Owens and in no place other than here or in private within your dorm.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly. She turned to leave. Mark turned too and suddenly collapsed! Holly sensed an intense weakness within Mark that hadn’t been there moments earlier.  
          “Uh, how many times did you say I ran around the room?” he asked as he tried to stand up. Holly and Becky hastened to help him.  
          “Five times,” replied Becky.  
          “Um, six times actually,” corrected Holly. “Almost seven. Mark ran a lap while you were crying,” she added as explanation.  
          “Seven times?” mused Mark as he straightened and surveyed the room size. “I believe it now,” he told them acknowledging the fatigue he now felt, “though I don’t remember it,” he confessed. Mark took a tentative step forward while leaning heavily upon both Holly and Becky for support. “You were crying?” questioned Mark as he took a second stumbling step.  
          “So they say,” agreed Becky, “but I can’t remember it.”  
          “That’s something,” replied Mark as he managed a third step. “I’d hate to think I was the only one here who has no idea what happened tonight.”  
          “I’ll tell you all about it,” assured Holly. “Uh, later,” she added mindful of Professor Lovegood’s instructions. “When we get back to the dorm.” The three slowly left the classroom and headed back towards their dorm.

********************

          “Blast!” exclaimed Holly in frustration. Holly peered into the opening while she felt around with her hand. “My Herbology book isn’t in my bag! I’ll have to go up and see if it’s in the class!”  
          “I’ll go with you,” offered Becky.  
          “No,” sighed Holly. “Why don’t just you stay here and wait. Professor Trelawney should still be in the class and if you’re outside here, I’m not breaking any rules.” Holly set her bag down next to Becky and resolutely began to climb the ladder.  
          Divination had remained her least favorite class—more so in the last few weeks. The subject itself was questionable. Holly knew dad thought such stuff was a lot of “hogwash!” as he put it. Many of the students, Holly included, did not take the omens and signs the professor spoke of seriously. In addition, Professor Trelawney required the students keep a log of their dreams… Holly wasn’t about to do that! It was bad enough writing about such things for Healer Winonan but for the professor? No way!  
          If Holly practiced her Occlumency properly, she had no dreams, and when she didn’t, her dreams were nightmares filled with mangled bodies, slimy whispers of Peter Pettigrew or the more terrifying whispers of Wizard Flint often coupled with the piercing red eyes and syllibant hiss of Lord Voldemort! Holly wasn’t about to put any of that on paper!  
          Mark assured Holly that students often faked their logs to get more interesting reading. But Holly couldn’t bear to do that either willing instead to take certain low scores and risk failing the class.  
          The class had been bad while Albus was attending. Albus constantly tripped and stumbled creating all sorts of clashes between him and the Slytherins. Tensions were always so high Holly never dared unblock while in the room. Professor Trelawney continually muttered something about the “evil eye!” whenever she looked at either Albus or Holly.  
          In addition, Holly would often miss, loose, or forget something, an item which she would only realize was absent after she left the class! One day Holly discovered she didn’t have her quill and had to use her spare… Then Becky found Holly’s quill on the shelf near where Holly usually sat in Divination. Another time, Holly couldn’t find her notes for Herbology. Holly guessed she must have left them in the dorm, but a thorough search there turned up nothing. Holly had to borrow Mark’s and was late to class! (5 points each from Hufflepuff—as Becky had to trail along while Holly searched!) Much later, Holly spotted the missing notes sitting on a shelf in the Divination classroom! Holly was certain she had never taken the notes out of her bag!  
          The next time Holly discovered something missing from her bag and couldn’t find it, Mark suggested they check Divination first. Sure enough, they located the missing item lying in plain sight on a shelf in the classroom. From then on, whenever Holly couldn’t find something, the trio trooped back to the Divination classroom certain to find the missing item lying innocently on one of the shelves. Even though Holly checked and double-checked her things and table before leaving Divination, various items still went missing only to be found later somewhere in the Divination classroom.  
          Ever since Albus’ confinement to the dorms, the matter of missing items had turned into a major problem. Holly started missing things daily. Hunting down the missing items often caused Holly to arrive late to her next class, forced her to turn in some assignments late and redo others not to mention those extra trips up the stairs and more opportunities to listen to Pettigrew.  
          When asked, Professor Trelawney never saw anything and kept muttering Holly’s problems were all due to the “evil eye!” In other words, she was absolutely no help at all!  
          After numerous exhausting trips back up the stairs to locate missing things, Holly finally decided it was best to check her bag on the landing right below Divination, just in case. Then she had the best chance of noting and retrieving missing items without getting late to her next class. It also meant a smaller amount of stairs to climb especially as they were stairs _without_ Pettigrew!  
          Holly climbed up the ladder and entered the Divination class. As always, the room was smoky and heavily perfumed. Professor Trelawney sat comfortably in the winged armchair in front of the fireplace as she always did after class. “Hello, it’s me,” announced Holly in a cheerful sounding voice. “I’ve come to get my book, _again_ …”  
          Professor Trelawney made no response which was rather odd as she usually clutched that red gauzy spangled shawl draped over her shoulders, peered at Holly through those thick glasses and said something creepy like, “The “evil eye” has been waiting for you…” Professor Trelawney was never surprised by Holly’s return but why should she with whatever Holly was seeking on the shelf in plain sight. Holly never paid attention to the professor’s words. Sure, they implied that the professor “knew” Holly would return but that didn’t count as a prediction: Holly had come back so often; it would have been unusual for Holly _not_ to have returned…  
          Sure enough, the Herbology book sat on the shelf behind Holly’s table. Holly strode confidently forward and grabbed it. “Bye,” she announced and walked back to the trap door in the floor. Abruptly, Holly stopped. With only one other person in the room, she hadn’t bothered to block and Holly suddenly realized that she couldn’t sense any other _emotions_! Professor Trelawney did _not_ practice Occlumency!  
           Holly turned and ventured closer to Professor Trelawney. She sat rigid in her chair, and her eyes were unfocused. “Are you O.K.?” Holly asked uncertainly. The professor didn’t look O.K. but with no accompanying emotions Holly had no idea how to interpret what she was seeing.  
          As Holly watched, Professor Trelawney’s eyes rolled up, her mouth sagged and she suddenly spoke. _“WITHIN EIGHT MOONS,”_ the professor said in a gravelly voice.  
          “What?” asked Holly. She had never heard such a harsh grating sound and it scared her.

_“THE ONE WHO SEES TOO MUCH SHALL HELP THE HIDDEN SEEK THE MEANS BEFORE THE KEEPER FINDS WHAT WAS LOST AND FOREVER CONCEAL THE UNTOLD RICHES FROM HUMAN EYES.”_

          Holly stared in disbelief. How could such a loud rasping sound have come from the Professor? It was abrasive, sharp and totally without emotion—completely unlike her usual voice.    
          Professor Trelawney’s head fell forward onto her chest. She made a grunting sort of noise. Suddenly, her head snapped up. Her eyes focused on Holly and Holly could again sense emotions from the professor. “Back to pick up your book?” Professor Trelawney asked in her usual dreamy soft voice. “Of course you are, the _evil eye_ was waiting.” She shivered a bit when she said that. “You really should keep better track of your things,” the professor chastised.  
          “Are you O.K.?” asked Holly with concern. Weird how Holly couldn't sense any emotions earlier; perhaps she had been mistaken.  
          “Of course I am,” replied Professor Trelawney serenely. “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
          “But your voice? It was so odd.”  
          “You’re imagining things,” said the professor firmly. “My voice is fine.” She gave a small cough. “My throat is just a bit dry. I think I’ll fix myself some lemon honey tea,” Professor Trelawney added rising gracefully from the chair. “That always makes my throat feel better.” She paused and looked at Holly thoughtfully. “Don’t you have class, Miss Wycliff?”  
          “Um, yes,” replied Holly as she backed away uncertainly. Holly could tell the professor had no idea she had just spoken about “moons and keepers.” How could that be possible? Should she tell the professor what happened? Would she even believe her? Holly put a foot on the ladder and then stopped. “Professor,” she began hesitantly thinking of something else.  
          “Yes?”  
          “How do I stop it?”  
          “Stop what?”  
          “The “evil eye,” continued Holly in a rush. “You keep on saying the “evil eye” is watching me. How do I stop it?” Holly didn’t believe in an evil eye, but maybe the professor would suggest something that would make her (the professor) stop saying it every time Holly was in the class.  
          “The _evil eye_ is far too powerful for you to ward off with a simple charm or spell, dear,” said Professor Trelawney knowledgably while turning to a shelf.  
          “So what do I do?”  
          “You fight it, of course,” answered Professor Trelawney serenely as she drew out a teapot. “Evil must always be fought. Now run along. If you don’t hurry, I foresee a loss of more House points.”

 ********************

          “Did you find it?’ called out Becky as Holly descended the ladder.  
          “Yes.”  
          “What took you so long?”  
          “Professor Trelawney was acting a bit strange…”  
          “She’s always strange,” said Becky dismissively. “Come on,” she urged. “Let’s hurry or we’ll be late!” And the two went down the stairs.


	29. Chapter 29

          “Hello, Holly,” came a familiar quiet voice.  
          “Hello, Mr. Potter, sir,” replied Holly softly looking up into his green eyes and expressionless face.  
          “How was your trip?”  
          “Fine, sir,” said Holly. She had just gotten off the Hogwarts Express with Becky and Mark.  
          “These your things?” Cousin Harry asked indicating her bag and cat carrier.  
          “Yes sir.”  
          Cousin Harry picked up the bag without a word while Holly grabbed her cat carrier. It was actually an oversized purse mum had given her which was large enough to hold Sasha inside, not that Sasha was in it at the moment. Holly also used the bag to carry immediate necessities. “We’d best get going,” Cousin Harry told her. “You have an appointment to keep.”  
          “Yes, sir.” Cousin Harry started moving towards the exit. Holly told Mark and Becky “Good-bye” and hurried to keep up with him.  
          The meeting had been difficult to say the least. Though his voice was light and calm, Cousin Harry was different, somehow: stiffer and more formal. That could just be because of the strain of Albus’ troubles or it could be more.  
          Though Cousin Harry had assured Holly that everything would be “O.K.,” Holly was certain her account of finding Albus had only helped to convince them of his guilt. At least Professor Slughorn was certain. He had been in too much pain to hide any of his emotions. Like the rest of the Slytherins, Professor Slughorn wanted vengeance. Professor Longbottom hadn’t wanted to believe but his uncertainty had shouted out loudly. And the others, well their emotions were under tight control. Holly couldn’t read anything from them, but their grim faces didn’t bode well for Albus. How could Cousin Harry even bear to look at her knowing what she had done?  
          “How is the family?” Holly asked politely. She knew Albus had left by port key that morning. Lily and James had gone with him. That way they didn’t have to deal with the Slytherins while on the train.  
          “Fine,” replied Cousin Harry without elaborating.  
          Two weeks had done little to cool the Slytherin tempers. Holly had felt their searing hatred whenever they passed by and knew that James, Rose and Lily had endured it as well.  
          When they discovered the Potters were not on the train, the Slytherins focused their anger on Holly, Rose and Taylor. While the Gryffindors knew Rose and Taylor had nothing to do with the collapse, its nature and cause was a topic of hot debate. To avoid the subject altogether, Rose and Taylor spent their time on the train with Holly and her friends. Holly had kept their berth door firmly closed against the Slytherins. While Holly knew many of the Hufflepuffs were certain Albus had something to do with the collapse, they were courteous enough to not bring up blame or the collapse as a topic of conversation around Holly. Thus Rose and Taylor were able to pass their time on the train in relative peace.  
          A loud “POP!” sounded accompanied by a blinding flash of light causing Holly to jump in surprise.  
          “How does it feel to be the father of someone accused of trying to murder the whole Slytherin student population?” came a honeyed sweet question. Holly had been blocking, of course, and was so focused on her own problems that she totally missed the arrival Rita Skeeter. Rita wore a tight tangerine coloured skirt and jacket with bright red trim. Her blond ringlets were held in place with a matching tangerine coloured hat. A bright yellow-green quill and spiral notebook hovered in the air next to her.  
          “Go away!” ordered Cousin Harry coldly while pulling Holly protectively behind him. He tried to continue forward but another flash of a camera stuck directly in his face blocked his way.  
          “You’re very distressed, of course,” murmured Rita in a conciliatory voice and her quill rapidly moved putting words on the notebook. “Why did he do it?" questioned Rita ignoring Cousin Harry’s words.  "Do you think he did it as part of one of his delusions or was it a deliberate act of attempted murder?” she continued without waiting for an answer.   "Why does he hate Slytherins?"  
          “Go away!” repeated Cousin Harry more firmly.  
          “You’re news!” insisted Rita smugly refusing to budge. “And the people want to know! Will your son be getting medical treatment over the holidays or do you plan to hide him away before the authorities get to him?” Harry tried to push past Rita but a crowd of obviously angry Slytherin parents and students stood behind her and in front of the exit blocking his way.  
          Another flash blinded Holly. “How does it feel to know you’re related to criminals?” Rita suddenly asked Holly. The quill and parchment had moved to hover directly in front of Holly.  
          “What?” squeaked Holly in surprise.  
          “Of course you’re upset,” answered Rita for Holly. The quill moved rapidly on the parchment. “You’re so brave,” she added in an admiring voice. “It must have been difficult for you to speak against your cousin knowing the kind of person he is. Are you afraid for your safety?” Holly stared at Rita blankly. “What did your parents say when they heard the news?” Rita continued relentlessly. “Are they having second thoughts about Harry Potter as your guardian?”  
          “Is that—Rita Skeeter?” a familiar voice shouted. “Yes! It is!” Prefect Gwen Feinstein ran up between Holly and Rita.  
          “May I have your autograph?” she asked loudly while waving a piece of parchment under Rita Skeeter’s nose.  
          “Me too!” shouted Lynette Huckaby who ran up with her older sister Marcy. “I’ve always wanted the autograph of somebody famous!” she added waving her own parchment in front of Rita. While several other Hufflepuff students, all with parchments, ran up and clustered around Rita, Holly felt a hand grasp her wrist tightly.  
          “Come on!” a new voice whispered urgently. “While she’s distracted!” The hand tugged at Holly and Holly followed dragging Cousin Harry with her. Still blocking, Holly couldn’t sense the person’s identity but she would have recognized Ravindra’s hand and voice anywhere! “Leave the bag!” Ravindra instructed while scooping up Sasha. “We’ll get it to you later!” Cousin Harry promptly dropped the bag and the three moved swiftly through the crowd.  
          Ravindra led them past the pillar labeled “Platform 9 and ¾” and headed towards another pillar much further away. “Service entrance” she announced briefly and without stopping, pulled Holly and Cousin Harry through!  
          “Thanks!” breathed Holly once they were on the Muggle side.  
          “Hurry!” urged Ravindra letting Sasha jump to the ground and moving swiftly forward while not letting go of Holly. “Before she catches up!”  
          “But how did you know?” asked Holly as they walked.  
          “Leila overheard the Slytherins talking about planning to watch an _interview_ at the station,” replied Ravindra. “We thought you might need a diversion…”  
          “It would seem we did,” agreed Cousin Harry. The three stepped outside the station and moved towards the curb. “Thank you very much, Miss, ah,”  
          “Miss Vasari,” filled in Holly proudly. “I would like you to meet Miss Ravindra Vasari. Ravindra, this is my Cousin Harry, Harry Potter.”  
          “Pleased to meet you,” said Ravindra, with a shake of her head, her curly black hair, held back with a bright blue headband, bounced with the movement. Ravindra’s brown eyes twinkled merrily.  
          “And I you,” replied Cousin Harry inclining his head slightly with more than mere polite interest in his emotions.  He obviously remembered Ravendra from Holly's summer account...  
          “Now, if you’ll excuse me I’d best be going,” said Ravindra releasing Holly’s hand. “I mean, it’s not like I _know_ you or anything,” she added with a smile. Ravindra wrapped Holly in a warm hug. “Take care, little sister,” she whispered. Then Ravindra took off swiftly vanishing within the Muggle crowd.  
          “Are you O.K.?” asked a voice from the other side. It came from Rose’s dad, Mr. Weasley. Taller than Cousin Harry, he towered over the two and his face was filled with concern.  
          “Yes, we are,” replied Cousin Harry, “thanks to some fast acting Hufflepuffs. She wasn’t there earlier,” he continued. “I swear. I don’t know how she got there so fast.”  
          “No alligator purse,” said Mr. Weasley succinctly. “Herminie noticed but we couldn’t warn you in time. She’s on to you, mate!” he added. “Time to think of something new.”  
          “Indeed,” agreed Cousin Harry. He pulled out a small business card. “STAN?” he called out to the card. “We need you. I’ll check with you later tonight about ideas for tomorrow,” he added addressing Mr. Weasley.  
          “Right!” he said. “Oops, there she is!” Mr. Weasley added looking back towards the station. “You two go on and I’ll head her off! See you later.” Mr. Weasley moved back through the crowds just as a taxi drove up.  
          The back door of the taxi swung open without any help. “‘Urry it up, ‘arry,” Stan Shunpike urged calling through the rolled down front passenger side window. “I ‘ear Rita’s on yer tail!”  
          “That she is,” agreed Cousin Harry. He waited for Holly to slide in first, and then slid in afterwards. Sasha leaped lightly onto Holly’s lap and the door slammed shut.

********************

          “Sorry about that,” murmured Cousin Harry to Holly after the taxi started moving. “I had no idea she’d go after you like that.”  
          “That’s O.K.,” said Holly glad now she had never done an interview with Rita. “We got away.”  
          “Where to?” asked Stan cheerfully as the taxi rolled forward.  
          “St. Mungo’s,” replied Cousin Harry.  
          “You got it!”  
          “Uh, Stan?” said Holly. Stan turned his head over his shoulder as he slammed to a stop at the first red light. “Could you please go the slow way, uh, Muggle speed?”  
          “No problem,” he replied an immediately put his foot on the breaks.  
          “Thank you,” Holly said as the taxi continued forward at a more sedate speed. She breathed a sigh of relief. When Stan drove fast, it was like riding on a roller coaster. “Mr. Potter,” Holly began hesitantly. “May I ask you something?”  
          “Certainly,” he replied in his usual calm voice.  
          “Uh, in _private?_ ”  
          Cousin Harry promptly drew out his wand and then hesitated. “Perhaps you should do the honors,” he suggested gently perhaps remembering the last time he had tried to have a private conversation with Holly.  
          Holly nodded and drew out her own wand. She had never actually tried to use that particular spell before. How did one know it was working anyway? _“Muffeliato!”_ she said with as much confidence as possible. The sounds of passing vehicles seemed to dim somehow.  
          Cousin Harry, regarding her steadily with his green eyes, nodded in satisfaction at her efforts. “I think that should do it,” he assured her. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?”  
          Holly took a deep breath. “Th-the headmistress said I wasn’t to talk to anyone about that meeting,” she began hesitantly. No need to explain which meeting she meant. “But can I talk to you? I mean,” Holly continued in a rush, “you were there and all so it should be O.K. if I talk with you, right?”  
          It had been very difficult for Holly to keep silent about the meeting. Pettigrew’s cheerful _“_ _Feel free to die while you wait, or not…”_ when Holly first sat seemed like good advice. Holly would have rather died than say what she had said during the meeting or hurt Cousin Harry so. Prefect Gwen was very upset to note Holly’s tear stained face when Holly left, more so when Holly refused to explain why. Other students pestered Holly constantly throughout the following two weeks trying to learn meeting details, or just about finding Albus, each with his or her own agenda seeking proof of Albus’ guilt or innocence.  
          “You may talk with me about the meeting,” Cousin Harry assured Holly solemnly, “but I can’t talk with you about what was discussed afterwards. There is still an ongoing investigation.”  
           Holly nodded. Nor was the following discussion her concern today. She collected her thoughts before beginning. “Remember when Professor Slughorn didn’t believe me when I said Albus looked awake but I couldn’t sense his emotions?” Holly began hesitantly.  
          “Yes”  
          “And how Professor Lovegood indicated that students practicing Occlumency could do that?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Well, they can, but it’s deliberate. They know what they’re doing but I’m certain Albus didn’t know! In fact,” she added, “I’d never seen anyone behave quite that way before…” Holly trailed off.  
          “As you indicated.” Cousin Harry waited for Holly to continue.  
          “Well, something happened a few days ago,” began Holly hesitantly. “There was someone without emotions and then with them, someone who didn’t know… like Albus…”  
          “Tell me about it…”  
          And Holly proceeded to describe what had happened in the Divination classroom with Madam Trelawney. “What do you think?” Holly asked eagerly when she had finished. “Do you think whatever happened to Albus happened to her too?”  
          “I think,” began Cousin Harry slowly, “that what you observed is very interesting. But unfortunately, I don’t believe it has anything to do with Albus.”  
          “Oh?” said Holly crestfallen. She had been certain she had discovered something important, something that could help Albus. “But why?”  
          “I observed something similar with Madam Trelawney once long ago, years before Albus ever set foot in Hogwarts, so I don’t believe the two can be connected.”  
           “Oh,” replied Holly again. She was very disappointed. Holly had hoped she had found something to offset what she had said earlier during the meeting. “So what’s wrong with her?”  
          “Nothing.”  
          “Nothing?” Holly said in disbelief. “But—”  
          “I believe you may have witnessed Madam Trelawney making a prophecy,” Cousin Harry added calmly.  
          “A prophecy!” exclaimed Holly in disbelief.  
          “Yes.”  
          “You can’t be serious!”  
          “She _is_ the Divination professor, you know…”  
          “Well, yes,” agreed Holly, “but I never thought any of that was worth taking seriously…”  
          “Nor I,” admitted Cousin Harry, “but I guess the lady has her moments.”  
          Holly leaned back in her seat and stroked Sasha thoughtfully. The cat kneaded her claws contentedly in Holly’s legs. “But what does it all mean?” she asked finally.  
          “Honestly?”  
          Holly nodded.  
           “I have no idea.” Cousin Harry leaned back thoughtfully. “The “eight moons” part is pretty obvious,” he finally said. “Eight months. And “the one who sees too much” could make a reference to you—with your flashbacks, you know… or not. But as for the rest… Your guess is as good as mine.”  
          “Really?”  
          “Yes. I wouldn’t pay it too much mind, though,” Cousin Harry told her. “If it’s truly about you,” he added explaining, “the meaning will become clear enough in time. But it’s no big deal. Prophecies can rule your life if you take them too seriously.”  
          “Oh.” Holly thought about that. “Wasn’t there a prophecy about you?” she asked curiously remembering what Ginny had said.  
          “Yes,” came the blunt reply. And Holly felt a sudden chilling of emotions.  
          “Did it rule your life?” she asked cautiously.  
          “No.”  
          Holly waited. There had to be more to it than that.  
          “It ruled _someone_ else’s life,” he said darkly. Holly waited some more. Then Cousin Harry added softly. “And _he_ ruined mine.”  
          Holly shivered. There could be no doubt in her mind who “he” was. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.  
          “Don’t be,” replied Harry calmly, his emotions again under control. “That was a long time ago and it wasn’t your mistake. Now, is there anything else?”  
          “No, sir, I don’t think so.”  
          “That’s good. Because I believe we have arrived.”  
          Sure enough, the taxi pulled to a stop at the curb next to a familiar display window, empty, except for a solitary, female manikin.  
          “See ya later!” Stan said cheerfully as they got out of the taxi. He drove swiftly off.  
          Sasha leaped into Holly’s bag as Holly and Cousin Harry walked up to the dummy in the window. Cousin Harry looked up at the female dummy and spoke. “We’re here to see Healer Winonan.” Holly watched as the dummy face nodded and beckoned with her jointed finger.    
          Cousin Harry held out his hand and Holly took hold. Then Cousin Harry started walking forward pulling Holly along with him. He stepped right through the glass as if it weren’t there. Holly closed her eyes and stepped forward with him. When she again opened her eyes, they were no longer on the street sidewalk but in a brightly lit hospital reception room.

********************

          Looking around, Holly saw no other patients in the admissions area. A middle-aged witch with platinum blonde hair sat at the reception desk. “Next!” she said briskly not even bothering to look up from her book. Cousin Harry stepped forward. “We’ve an appointment with Healer Winonan…”  
          “Name?”  
          “Holly Wycliff and Harry Potter.”  
           The witch looked up at the name Harry Potter. Her eyes instantly traveled to his forehead no doubt seeking the scar he had there. Then she looked curiously at Holly. “You’re the Empath aren’t you?” she asked.  
          “Um, yes,” replied Holly timidly, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.  
          “Can you really sense what I am feeling?”  
          “Sort of,” admitted Holly. It wasn’t something she usually talked about.  
          “So what am I feeling?” she challenged.  
          “It’s been a long day,” interrupted Cousin Harry before Holly could answer. “Is it possible to see Healer Winonan?”  
          “Very well,” the witch said in a disappointed voice. “Down the hall and the first door to the right. It’s empty so go right on in. I’ll let him know you’re here.” She returned her attention to her book.  
          “Thank you,” said Cousin Harry and the two started down the hall.  
          “She meant no harm and really did want to know,” said Holly when they were out of hearing of the witch.  
          “No doubt,” agreed Cousin Harry, “but you are not an entertainment act to perform on command and she shouldn’t have asked you to.”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly softly.  
          The first door on the right was closed. Cousin Harry turned the knob opened the door and then stood aside for Holly to enter. Holly stepped inside and Cousin Harry followed shutting the door behind them.

*********************

          The room contained a chair and a small pallet. Harry sat in the chair and Holly jumped onto the pallet. Sasha leaped out of Holly’s bag and immediately started exploring. The cat sniffed at the two brooms leaning in the corner and then leaped lightly onto the lowest shelf, one of many, which lined the walls. She wove expertly between the colorful odd shaped bottles and flasks sitting on it.  
          “You might want to tell your cat to keep off the shelves,” suggested Fiona, the lady in the portrait that hung on the back wall. “Healer Winonan gets grumpy if one of his bottles break.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly meekly. Sasha immediately left the shelf and returned to Holly’s lap. Holly’s hands automatically started stroking the cat. Sasha purred contentedly.  
          Fiona then directed her attention to the humans in the room. “That’s Harry Potter!” she announced with sudden recognition. Cousin Harry nodded his head. “And Holly, isn’t it?” she added warmly. “How are you doing?”  
          “Fine, ma’am,” replied Holly politely.  
          “Well, you look fine,” Fiona observed, “except for those dark circles under your eyes. Have you been getting enough rest?”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” said Holly automatically. Fiona crossed her arms and frowned. “Well, as much as possible,” amended Holly without elaborating.  
          Fiona uncrossed her arms and smiled. Then she placed a hand on the table in her painting and leaned forward. “Weren’t you having some problems with flashbacks?” she asked with concern.  
          “Yes, ma’am” replied Holly uncomfortably. Holly tipped her head down so her long hair covered the sides of her face and focused all her attention on Sasha.  
          “And how is that?” demanded Fiona.  
          “Fine,” whispered Holly.  
          “Fine?” asked Fiona tartly. “What kind of an answer is that? Are the flashbacks “fine?” Do you still have them and that’s “fine?” Or have they gone away altogether and that’s what makes them “fine?”  
          The door suddenly swung open and Healer Winonan entered the room carrying a clipboard and quill. Today, he wore an orange plaid shirt, violet pants and sky blue striped suspenders underneath the usual lime green robe with an embroidered emblem of a crossed wand and bone. He stopped and smiled when he saw Holly sitting on the pallet. “Well, well, well!” he said looking her over. “And how are we feeling today?”  
          “Fine,” began Holly. “A little tired,” she added looking uncomfortably up at Fiona on the wall. Fiona now looked like a regular painting, frozen in position near a table full of vials and potion bottles.  
          “That’s to be expected,” he said dismissively, “given the recent circumstances. How about your flashbacks?”  
          “Uh,” Holly again looked up at Fiona not sure how to answer. Healer Winonan followed her glance.  
          “Fiona!” he exclaimed accusingly. “Have you been asking questions without me? You know you’re not supposed to do that! Patients don’t like to answer the same questions twice!!!”  
          “I couldn’t help it!” said Fiona defensively. “You weren’t here and I wanted to know!”  
          Healer Winonan gave an exasperated sigh. “If I recall,” he began again, “you were supposed to keep a journal of your flashback activities.”  
          “Yes, sir,” Holly nodded.  
          “Did you ask her about that too?” Healer Winonan asked Fiona.  
          “Of course not,” replied Fiona righteously. “You know I hate reading that modern style writing.”  
          “True,” agreed Healer Winonan with a satisfied smile. “Did you remember to bring it today, Miss Wycliff?”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly. She pulled out a pink and white notebook from her bag and handed it to Healer Winonan.  
          “Thank you,” said Healer Winonan looking at the notebook briefly. “I’ll review it and discuss it with you later. In the meantime,” he added as he put the notebook on the shelf, “perhaps you can tell me some of the basics while I examine you.”  
          “Yes, sir.”  
          “Are you still having flashbacks?” he asked conversationally.  
          “Yes.”  
          Healer Winonan peered closely into Holly’s eyes and asked, “Are they the mild kind like you had in the station or something more like what you experienced with your father?”  
          “The mild kind,” answered Holly promptly. “Nothing I couldn’t handle with a little determination…”  
          “I see. Cough,” he commanded. Holly obliged. Healer Winonan listened to her lungs and asked.   “Do you know what causes the other kind?”  
          “Sort of,” replied Holly hesitantly.  
          “Enough to prevent them from happening?” Healer Winonan asked while peering into her ears.  
          “No,” she confessed.  
          Healer Winonan stood back. “Well,” he said looking her over. “You appear fine physically. Shall we take a walk?”  
          Holly nodded and slid off the cot. They had taken a tour of the hospital last year and the healer had intended to take one in August before Cousin Harry had brought up the thing about flashbacks.  
          “Your cat shall have to stay with Mr. Potter,” Healer Winonan told her. “And she’d best be in her bag so Mr. Potter can wait for us in the waiting area. New rules,” Winonan explained apologetically. Holly nodded. She opened her bag and Sasha leaped lightly into it. Then Holly closed the bag and handed it to Cousin Harry. He snapped the flap shut and held the bag gently in his arms.  
          Healer Winonan headed towards the door. He paused stepping back and said courteously, “After you.”  
          Holly obligingly opened the door and stopped abruptly. Someone was in the way.  
          “Hey, Holly! Fancy meeting you here!” came Roland’s cheerful voice.


	30. Chapter 30

          Roland Dewitt stared in disbelief at the retreating form. Holly had taken one look at him and backed away instantly. But in that instant Roland had seen Holly’s usually pleasant features transform into one of shock and terror! “Holly?” he called out after her while stepping further into the room. “What?”  
          “No!” commanded an unfamiliar voice with a body that moved suddenly in front of Roland blocking his way. Roland looked up into the face of Harry Potter. They had never officially met before, but no one could mistake Mr. Potter’s tall lean figure, glasses and the distinguishing zig-zag mark on his forehead. Roland stopped uncertainly. Mr. Potter was Holly’s guardian, after all.  
          “Shut the door,” Mr. Potter commanded quietly and then turned his attention to a bag in his arms. The contents hissed, bulged and moved about constantly. Mr. Potter was plainly trying to keep something in it. “No!” he said to the bag while holding it tight. “I know you’re worried, but she’ll be all right! You have to stay in there for a while.” The bouncing subsided but Roland heard a low growl emanate from the bag and was certain it came from Holly’s cat, Sasha. Roland shut the door behind him. What was going on?  
          Mr. Potter looked back at Roland. “You would be Mr. Roland Dewitt?” he asked calmly.  
          “Y-yes, sir,” replied Roland meeting Mr. Potter’s intense scrutiny. “What’s this all about?”  
          “I apologize for involving you,” he began quietly, “especially without advance notice, but Healer Winonan needed your assistance in something and he wanted all reactions unrehearsed… Is this what you were looking for?” he called out to Healer Winonan.  
          “I think so,” Healer Winonan replied. “I’ll have a better idea once I find her…”  
          Roland looked up and around Mr. Potter. There was no sign of Holly in the room! “She didn’t slip past you and out did she?” asked Healer Winonan.  
          “No,” replied Mr. Potter. “She went the other way, I’m certain.”  
          “Well, then she must be in here somewhere.”  
          “Try under the cot,” suggested the lady in the portrait. Roland didn’t know her name. “It’s the only place I can’t see well from here.” Healer Winonan obligingly looked under the cot. “No,” he reported, “I don’t see her there either, Fiona.”  
          “Well, then who gave her the invisible cloak?” said Fiona in exasperation. Almost as one Roland, Healer Winonan and Fiona looked at Harry Potter.  
          Mr. Potter blinked a few times and then said dismissively, “She’s family.”  
          Fiona snorted in annoyance.  
          “Besides,” Mr. Potter added. “I had no idea how you intended to arrange this meeting.”  
          “Arrange” was definitely the word. Roland had received an invitation to study healing methods with the monks in Tibet. It had been a rare opportunity and a major honor, especially as he was only an Auror intern. But now Roland suspected the invitation was something more. Roland had stayed 2½ months at a monastery where owls and outside news were not permitted.  
          The return portkey had taken Roland directly to the hospital. Roland had been only able to send word to his family of his safe arrival before Winonan kept him busy filling out paperwork reporting on what he had learned. Roland now suspected all those questions had been a stall awaiting Holly’s arrival.  
          It had been no accident that Roland had been outside that door. Winonan had left Roland’s company after receiving a message from the receptionist. He had instructed Roland to join him in his office after “five minutes” where he would be given a “special assignment.” Roland had promptly tried to do that—just in time to encounter Holly on the other side of the door.  
          “…couldn’t risk it,” Healer Winonan said conversationally as he walked over to the two old brooms in the corner of the room. “She would have known something was up! She _is_ an Empath, you know.”  
          “You’re not going to “sweep” around for her are you?” asked Fiona in horror as Winonan lifted one of the brooms.  
          “Of course not!” replied the Healer. “That could hurt her. I just need a bit of what’s _under_ the broom.” He lifted the broom. Beneath it was a small mound of dust and dirt that had obviously been swept into the corner. “I knew there was a reason to not get rid of all this!” he said looking at the dust with satisfaction.  
          "Ha!” snorted Fiona putting her hands on her hips. “You’re just lazy! Powdered goldenrod would do as well and look much better!”  
          “But what a waste of goldenrod that would be,” responded Winonan cheerfully as he swept the dirt onto a piece of parchment. The Healer set the broom back down in the corner and straightened up. Then he carefully set the parchment with the dirt on the cot. Roland watched as Healer Winonan drew out a large spoon and scooped a small portion of the dirt into the spoon. Then he bent down and gently blew the dirt into the air under the cot. “Nope,” he informed the group. “She’s not under here.” The healer stood and refilled his spoon. This time he blew it gently towards an empty looking corner. The dust floated into the air and onto the floor. The Healer refilled his spoon and began to blow dust along the back wall. To Roland’s amazement, the dust seemed to land midair forming a small mound less than a meter high. “Got her!” announced the Healer with satisfaction. “Now, to get it off her!” He returned the spoon to his pocket and surveyed the mound.  
          It seemed like no big deal to Roland: just grab the edge of the cloak and pull it off. But there was clearly more going on here than he realized so Roland stood silently and watched. Why was Holly hiding in the first place?  
          “I believe I need your help, Mr. Potter,” said Healer Winonan finally.  
          “What would you like me to do?”  
          “Stand against the wall on the opposite side of her and grab the cloak from the back. Perhaps the two of us can lift it over her head and drop it down in front without removing the cloak from her grasp.” Mr. Potter nodded. He handed Roland the bag with Sasha and walked over to where Healer Winonan indicated. Healer Winonan walked to the other side. The two of them knelt down and reached about until they each appeared to have a firm grasp of the cloak. “Ready?” asked the Healer.  
          “Ready,” replied Mr. Potter.  
          “Then lift.”  
          “Slowly now,” instructed Fiona looking down worriedly from above.  
          The dust seemed to shake off the cloak as they lifted. Neither person looked to be holding anything but both Healer Winonan and Mr. Potter stood slowly, each with an outstretched arm, seeming to be lifting something as they stood. “Very good,” murmured the Healer while looking behind his outstretched arm. “Now, bring it forward.” Mr. Potter moved his arm away from the wall. “And down.” The two carefully knelt down with their arms still outstretched.  
           As they did so, Roland could see the person the cloak had hidden. But he could scarce believe his eyes. Holly was crouched down, knees bent as if ready to run, with both arms straight and stiff in front angled towards the ground and her eyes were wide open with such a look of frozen terror Roland could have never imagined. “What?—”  
          “Hush,” instructed Healer Winonan swiftly. “You can release your side now,” he added to Mr. Potter. “I don’t want to try removing it from her grasp.”  
          Mr. Potter nodded. He opened his hand and the silvery cloak suddenly came into view as it fell to the floor. Then Mr. Potter straightened and stepped back towards Roland. He turned and looked at Holly. “Yes,” he said calmly, “I definitely believe that is what her father saw…”  
          “Right!” said Healer Winonan. “Time to make some observations. What do you think?” he asked Fiona.  
          “What do I think?” exclaimed Fiona in frustration. “How can I think anything? She’s right below me and I can’t see a thing! Get me down from here so I can look!” Healer Winonan obligingly reached over Holly’s head, grasped the portrait with both hands and lifted it off its nail. Then he carefully set the portrait on the floor leaning it against the cot so Fiona had a full view of Holly.  
          “Oooh!” Roland heard Fiona say excitedly. “This is bad! Real bad! No wonder the father was worried. She looks positively catatonic! Is she even breathing?”  
          “Sir,” ventured Roland softly to Mr. Potter. “What’s wrong with Holly?”  
          “Nothing is wrong with Holly,” he replied determinedly despite the evidence to the contrary in front of both of them.  
          “But—”  
          “She is just having a bit of a problem with flashbacks,” Mr. Potter added quietly.  
          Flashbacks? What kind of flashback could do this??? Healer Winonan pulled some complicated looking instruments from off a shelf and then walked back to Holly. “Sir?” questioned Roland seeking further explanation. Roland looked expectantly at Mr. Potter knowing he wouldn’t deny him an answer after that earlier apology.  
           Mr. Potter sighed. “Something happened during the summer,” he said looking over at Holly. Roland looked at Holly too. She hadn’t moved a bit despite the activity around her—hadn’t even blinked!  
          “Heart rate’s off the chart!” reported Healer Winonan.  
          “What about her pupils?” questioned Fiona. “Do they dilate?”  
          “There was another plaque…” Mr. Potter continued softly.  
          Roland did a swift intake of breath. There could be only one such “plaque” that Harry Potter might mention in connection with Holly. “No!” Roland exclaimed involuntarily knowing exactly what the last plaque had done. “Did you destroy it?”  
          “Yes,” assured Mr. Potter. Then he added, “but not before Holly’s brother Vernon touched it…”  
          “No!” exclaimed Roland again, certain Vernon must have green eyes.  
          “No pupil reaction at all!” said Healer Winonan. “Fascinating!”  
          “It took Holly three days to reach the plaque in the trophy room,” whispered Harry Potter suddenly.  
          “No!” That was positively unimaginable! Roland well remembered Holly’s story of the other Hogwarts headed by Headmaster Snape. How had Holly ever managed to survive in a place like that for so long? “Why didn’t she—” began Roland.  
          “Along the way,” Mr. Potter interrupted, “she apparently met … you!”  
          “Me?” Roland questioned in disbelief. He turned from Holly and looked at Mr. Potter in shock and surprise. Roland’s eyes met Mr. Potter’s green ones seeking some hint of a joke or jest. But there was none. Roland looked back at Holly with the stark terror on her face and, knowing he had been asked there specifically so they would meet, knew instantly he must have somehow caused her original terror.  
          “Yes, at a train station.”  
          “W-what did I do?” Roland ventured to ask unable to believe he was capable of creating such terror.  
          “As near as I can tell,” replied Mr. Potter softly. “Nothing.”  
          “What?” asked Roland incredulously.  
          “You just stood there and did … nothing.” Mr. Potter turned his head and again looked at Holly. “Yet such was the impact of your presence,” he added while watching Holly, “that the mere thought of you has brought about … this.” He nodded his head at the frozen girl in front of them. “You are not the only flashback Holly has experienced,” Mr. Potter added calmly. “She’s been having them off and on all summer and during school. Healer Winonan wanted to observe one of Holly’s flashbacks while under a controlled environment. You were one person I knew of that I felt certain would trigger the response he desired. I do regret involving you in this.”  
          “Will it help Holly?” Roland asked worriedly. He couldn’t take his eyes off her terrorized face.  
          “I hope so,” replied Mr. Potter quietly while watching her as well. Healer Winonan was returning his tools to the shelf.  
          “Then I’m glad I could help,” said Roland with determination. He liked Holly and it was scary seeing her this way.  
          “Right!” said Healer Winonan while wiping his hands on his robe. “Your turn, Mr. Dewitt.”  
          “What?” sputtered Roland in surprise.  
          “You’ve got to bring her out of it,” explained Mr. Potter quietly.  
          “ME!!!”  
          “Yes.” Mr. Potter shifted on his feet before speaking further. “I realize you aren’t trained to deal with things like this, Mr. Dewitt,” he added, “but neither is anyone else. Holly indicated to me that you and she were friends, good friends,” continued Mr. Potter softly, persuasively. “She’ll listen to you, I’m certain of it. It was your presence that brought about this flashback and I’m positive you’re the best one to bring her back to reality. At least, I’d like you to try.”  
          Roland gulped. “H-how am I supposed to do that?” he asked uncertainly. No one had said anything about working with traumatized students in Auror class and there certainly was nothing like this in Tibet!  
          “No idea,” replied Mr. Potter promptly. “I’ve never seen Holly do this before. Only heard about it. Talking seemed to have worked with her father but I don’t know what he actually said. Talking has brought Holly back from other flashback situations,” he added softly, “but that’s no guarantee for this time. I don’t know how to advise you,” Mr. Potter concluded lamely. “Just try your best.”  
          Roland looked over at Healer Winonan. “This the special project you had in mind?” he asked accusingly.  
          Winonan nodded with a smile. “It’s important that Aurors think on their feet and can improvise,” he told Roland. “Now’s your chance.” The Healer backed away to give Roland room.  
          “You can do it!” said Fiona encouragingly.  
          Roland sighed. He set the bag with Sasha on the cot and stepped reluctantly forward. Holly was his friend so he had to at least try. Mr. Potter was right about that. Roland squatted down in front of Holly and stared into her unblinking green eyes. What should he do or say? “Holly?” he began uncertainly and reached out a hand lightly touching her shoulder.  
          Holly sprang away at his touch and raced into the wall on her right. Fiona’s portrait clattered unnoticed to the floor as Holly started banging on the wall with both hands while still clutching the cloak between her fingers. “Where is it?” she moaned while she pounded. “Where is it?”  
          Healer Winonan reached out a hand. He quietly picked up and removed Fiona’s portrait placing it out of reach while Mr. Potter moved the cot back and out of the way giving Holly more room. Holly didn’t notice their actions. She just kept on pounding the wall moving from side to side all the while moaning insistently, “Where is it?”  
          Roland stepped closer and watched Holly worriedly. “Where is what?” he finally asked when Holly showed no sign of stopping.  
          Holly immediately skittered away from Roland stopping only when she crashed into the corner while still frantically pounding on the wall. “The door!” she exclaimed. “It’s here somewhere!”  
          “There’s no door there,” said Roland.  
          “Yes there is,” insisted Holly while she pounded. “Where is it?” she moaned while still pounding. “It must be there!  Why won't it open?” Suddenly Holly sank to the floor. “It's over!” she whispered in defeat. “ I’m doomed! It’s all a trap; he’ll find me and take me Azkaban!”  
          Roland bent down next to Holly. “Nobody is taking you to Azkaban!” assured Roland in frustration. “I won’t let them!” he promised. He dropped his Occlumency guard so Holly could sense his emotions and sincerity. “You’re safe, Holly, safe!” he insisted. “Do you understand?” Holly didn’t respond. Her head dropped, and her long blonde hair slid forward obscuring her face. Holly’s fingers started tugging on the cloak pulling it together in a tight bundle, which she held tightly in her hands.  
          “But it was a trap, sort of,” Roland reflected out loud more to himself than to Holly. He sat down on the floor next to Holly, careful not to touch her, and leaned his back against the wall. “Healer Winonan wanted to see what would happen if you ran into me and I guess he got an eye-full.” Roland leaned his head against the wall. “I don’t know what happened to you this summer, Holly, but it’s over now, I swear! And you’re safe; you don’t have to be afraid.”  
          Holly brought the cloak up to her head and buried her face in it. “Why did you betray me?” she whispered while she ran the fabric through her fingers.  
          “What?” exclaimed Roland in surprise. No one had said anything about betrayal! He looked over at Holly and she turned her face towards him. The wild-eyed look of terror was gone and her cheeks were wet with tears. “No!” he protested. “I never betrayed you! I couldn’t have!” It was purely a reflexive response. Roland didn’t know what Holly was talking about.  
          “Security!” Holly whispered accusingly. “You were in _Security!_ ”  
          “Huh?” Roland had no idea what “Security” was but it couldn’t be good from the way Holly spat the name.  
          “You were waiting for me and you were in _Security!_ ” accused Holly in a louder voice. “You were going to take me away!”  
          “No!” protested Roland. “I would never!” he added defensively.  
          “You couldn’t,” persisted Holly, “because I hid. But you would have.”  
          “No I wouldn’t!” insisted Roland. “I didn’t do anything!” Of that he was certain! Hadn’t Mr. Potter said he had only “stood there?”  
          “You would have!” Holly practically shouted. “Because that’s what Security does! You capture people and take them away! How _could_ you?” Roland suddenly realized Holly wasn’t talking to him, but the Roland of that other world, the one in Security.  
          “Is that all Security does?” Roland asked realizing there was no way he could defend against something about which he knew nothing.  
          That silenced Holly. She looked back at the wall. “No,” she whispered softly. “I don’t suppose Cedric did that.”  
          “Cedric?” whispered Roland in surprise. “You saw Cedric Diggory?” Holly nodded. She rubbed the tears from her face with a sleeve.  
          “Cedric!” mused Roland. Snape had been alive and Voldemort, of course, but who would have figured Cedric had lived. “What did Cedric do?” Roland asked curiously.  
          “Sit,” said Holly softly. “Stand. Fetch. Not much.”  
          “Like me,” reminded Roland remembering what Harry Potter had said.  
          “No,” argued Holly. “Not like you.” She twisted the cloak back and forth nervously in her hands.  
          “You don’t know that.”  
          “I do,” Holly insisted without explaining.  
          “I’m not that Roland,” ventured Roland tentatively.  
          “I know,” admitted Holly softly, “and I don’t suppose I’ll ever know what you would have done had you had the chance.”  
          “Sure you do,” argued Roland. Somehow he knew the answer was very important to Holly.  
          “Do I?” Holly’s voice sounded hopeful.  
          “Yes. You said I was waiting for you right?”  
          “Yes, but—”  
          “Did I see you?”  
          Holly nodded.  
          “Recognize you?”  
          She nodded again.  
          “And what did I do?”  
          “Nothing,” admitted Holly, “but you didn’t have a chance to do anything…”  
          “Didn’t I?” Roland questioned. “I could have called for help, alerted the other Security people, maybe closed the station while we searched. At the very least, I could have walked about and looked! But I just stood there. I … did … nothing!”  
          “Look at me, Holly,” insisted Roland. Holly turned her tear stained face towards Roland until he could see her green eyes. “I’m better than that,” he assured her. “I knew you were there and I let you walk right past me—granted you were probably wearing that invisible cloak at the time, but that doesn’t matter. I still let you walk past me without doing … a … thing! And because you got past me you made it to the trophy room and broke the curse!”  
          Roland took a breath while he collected his thoughts. “Sometimes,” he began carefully. “Sometimes help is not measured by what we do but by what we _don’t_ do! And I didn’t _do_ anything! I didn’t betray you, Holly,” Roland assured her. “Not then, not ever!” He reached out and drew Holly to him urging her to lean against his arm and shoulder. “Do you believe me?”  
          “Y-yes,” whispered Holly, “I think I do.” And her tense body seemed to relax. “Thank you.”  
          “Good,” said Roland breathing a sigh of relief. “Now, what do you say we get up off this floor? I’m tired of being a fish in a fishbowl for Healer Winonan. What about you?”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Holly with a sigh. “I don’t like people standing around looking at me.”  
          “Show’s over!” announced Roland as he stood up. He took hold of Holly’s arm and helped her to stand also.  
          “Are you all right, Holly?” asked Mr. Potter concern clearly etched in his face.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly turning to face the others.  
          Healer Winonan stepped forward and peered closely into Holly’s eyes. “Where are you, Miss Wycliff?” he asked gently.  
          “In your office, of course,” replied Holly. She looked down thoughtfully at the cloak in her hands. “I believe this is yours,” she said softly and handed the cloak to Mr. Potter.  
          “Thank you,” said Mr. Potter solemnly while taking the cloak. He gave it a quick practiced shake and then swiftly tucked it under his shirt.  
          “What month is this?” asked Healer Winonan as he looked in Holly’s ear.  
          “December.”  
          “And who is standing next to you?” he persisted.  
          “Roland Dewitt,” replied Holly looking up at Roland without fear, “my friend.”  
          “Excellent!” Healer Winonan stepped back and surveyed Holly with a smile. “I think that is enough for today. I expect you back bright and early in the morning so we can discuss this,” and he patted a pocket that contained what appeared to be a pink book of some sort. “And I think that will be all for you today, too, Mr. Dewitt,” he added looking directly at Roland. “I expect you back tomorrow afternoon so you can finish your report,” he added.  
          Roland gulped. So it hadn’t all been a scam. “Yes, sir,” he said.  
          “I was planning to take Miss Wycliff out to dinner, Mr. Dewitt,” said Mr. Potter quietly as he handed Holly the bag containing Sasha. “Would you like to join us? My treat.” Holly opened the bag and immediately started stroking the cat within. Roland could hear Sasha’s loud purr in response.  
          Roland looked from Mr. Potter to Holly. It would be nice to see his family, but it wasn’t often one got the opportunity to share a meal with Harry Potter. Besides, he had some questions… “Yes, sir, I’d like that,” replied Roland. So the three of them left Healer Winonan’s office together.

*********************

          “There’s a fish and chips spot a couple of blocks away we could go to,” said Mr. Potter when the three had stepped onto the sidewalk. “If that’s O.K. with you?” he added asking Roland.  
          “Um, sure, that sounds fine,” replied Roland while wondering what “fish and chips” were. There weren’t any wizard spots nearby. That meant they were going to a Muggle establishment. Roland had never visited one of those before.  
          “I expect the walk will do us some good.”  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Roland. He didn’t mind walking. He had done a lot of it in Tibet.  
          “It looks like your cat appreciates the opportunity to stretch her legs,” Mr. Potter commented to Holly. Sasha had leaped out of the bag and was running excitedly between their legs.  
          “She’s rather annoyed at you,” said Holly conversationally as they started down the sidewalk. “What did you do?”  
          “I asked her to remain in your bag while Healer Winonan made his examination,” replied Mr. Potter. “I think she was a little worried about you.”  
          “Oh.”  
          “Thank you for your help in there,” added Mr. Potter to Roland quietly as they walked.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Roland. “No problem, uh, I’m glad I could help.”  
          “Me too,” agreed Mr. Potter.  
          It was cold outside, but not as cold as Tibet. Roland decided the Tibetan coat he had hastily put on when leaving St. Mungo’s was way too warm. His white long-sleeved, high collared shirt would be sufficient protection against the weather. Roland slid one arm out of his gold embroidered black chuba and retied it at his waist in traditional Tibetan fashion. The three crossed a street and kept on walking.  
          “May I ask you something?” ventured Roland turning to Holly.  
          “What?”  
          “How did you know it was me and not that other Roland?”  
          “Your emotions,” replied Holly simply.  
          “Huh?”  
          “I had the cloak on,” she reminded him. “Or should have had it on. I shouldn’t have felt anything from you but then I did. And if I could sense you, then the cloak wasn’t on or wasn’t working. Either way, if you could see me and we were still talking… Well, the inconsistencies were building up and that kind of destroyed the flashback. The last time,” Holly paused reflecting. “The last time I sensed you for only an instant before I put the cloak on and then it was all fear and worry on my part until I could get out of the station. You looked real good in that Security uniform though,” she added honestly. “Like it belonged and I think that made it worse. Some of those Security people were _really_ nasty!”  
          “Oh.”  
          “Here we are!” said Mr. Potter in a cheerful sounding voice stopping in front of a corner café. It was painted deep blue with matching blue awnings. The word “CHIPS” was written in large white letters on one of the windows. Five tables were set up outside with Muggles sitting at them eating. Some of the Muggles looked up curiously at the three. Roland immediately felt self-conscious in his Tibetan style clothing. But the Muggles gave him scarcely a glance before returning to their food.  
          “Shall we go inside?” asked Mr. Potter. Holly nodded and immediately set down her bag. Sasha leaped into the bag and Holly closed it tight.  
          “What’d you do that for?” asked Roland curiously as Holly stood and placed her bag on her shoulder.  
          “Muggles don’t like animals inside their food places,” replied Holly. “Ready,” she told Mr. Potter. He nodded and then led the way inside.

********************

          Mr. Potter selected an empty booth away from the windows and the three sat down. Roland stared curiously at the menu with its common names and non moving pictures. He eventually ordered the same as Holly. Holly and Mr. Potter seemed completely at ease with people physically writing down their order. Nor did they seem surprised when the food did not immediately arrive. Muggle ways came easily for them no doubt because they had both been raised in Muggle families. When the lady walked off Mr. Potter turned to Roland and said, “I understand you’ve been to Tibet.”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Roland.  
          “What was it like?”  
          Roland launched into a narrative about his experiences describing the people and places he had seen. When the food arrived, (brought by the same person that took their order, no less!) Roland took a sip of the tea and breathed a sigh of pleasure. “Tibet was nice,” he told them, “but nothing beats a proper cup of tea.” Roland then described the yak butter concoction that passed for tea in Tibet and some of the other local meals he had eaten. When he had finished, Roland turned to Holly and asked casually “How’s school?”  
          Holly set down her food, glanced briefly at Mr. Potter and took a deep breath before responding. Roland noted the glance instantly and wondered what it meant.  
          “Ah, Professor Hagrid had us raising a Roc in Care of Magical Creatures,” she began. And Holly started talking about the “joys” of caring for a Roc.  
          Roland only half listened. Roland had been taught to keep his eyes and ears open for any and all information on the off chance something might lead to a dark magic practitioner. He decided something must be up at school, something they didn’t want to mention. It couldn’t be the plaque or the flashbacks since Roland knew about that, but it was still probably Potter related. Harry Potter was noted for keeping things quiet. The most difficult part of his stay in Tibet was the lack of information. Roland understood this served Healer Winonan’s purposes but it had kept him from learning other things as well, things that could be important. Roland felt out of touch with the wizard world.  
          “It’s gone now, thank goodness. But I sure wish I could have seen it,” concluded Holly with a sigh of regret.  
          “What?” asked Roland returning his attention to Holly.  
          “You were in his class how could you have not seen it?”  
          “Because I couldn’t fly,” explained Holly.  
          “Huh? You fly fine.”  
          “I suppose,” agreed Holly, “but I couldn’t. The flashbacks, you see,” she added. “Healer Winonan was afraid I’d have one while on a broom and injure myself so he grounded me.”  
          “That’s rough,” sympathized Roland. He wondered what other restrictions Healer Winonan had placed.  
          Suddenly Holly stiffened.  
          “What is it?” asked Mr. Potter, immediately concerned.  
          “A wizard just walked in,” she said in a low voice. Roland looked over Holly’s shoulder at the two men who were standing in the entrance. One was in the process of closing the door. Both wore Muggle style clothing and Roland didn’t recognize either. “Which one?” he asked Holly.  
          Holly twisted her body and turned to look. “Both of them,” she replied revising her original statement. “The other one is practicing Occlumency.”  
          “I believe it’s time we left,” said Mr. Potter rising as the two wizards sat down at an empty table near the door. He pulled some Muggle money out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Holly stood and Roland followed. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Dewitt,” he said formally. “Perhaps we can hear more of Tibet some other time,” he added.  
          “Too late!” muttered Holly abruptly. Roland looked at the door again and didn’t have to ask who had just come in. He recognized those stiff blonde curls and the owner who went with them. Rita Skeeter! Rita didn’t give the two wizards a glance as she sauntered directly up to their table.  
          “Mr. Potter!” she exclaimed rather loudly. “Fancy meeting you here!”  
          “No more surprising than to see you here,” replied Mr. Potter coldly.  
          “We didn’t finish our interview,” she purred.  
          “There was no interview!” asserted Mr. Potter firmly.  
          “I thought you’d make less of a scene in front of the Muggles!” Rita added smugly ignoring Mr. Potter’s words. “But if that’s what you’d prefer… I’ll see to it you make a splash in both wizard and Muggle news! And it won’t be pretty!” Rita’s eyes seemed to harden as she spoke.  
          Roland stared at her in disbelief. Rita Skeeter was trying to blackmail Harry Potter! No, she _was_ blackmailing him! Mr. Potter glanced around the café with its Muggle customers and then at Holly and Roland.  
          “Very well,” he said quietly, “an interview. Mr. Dewitt,” he added addressing Roland. “Would you please escort Miss Wycliff outside and stay with her until the taxi arrives? You surely don’t need both of us for your interview, do you?” Mr. Potter added calmly while looking directly at Rita. “Miss Wycliff has had a long tiring day traveling and all,” he continued smoothly. “She’d hardly be at her best for an interview.” Rita bit her vermilion lip in annoyance. Roland could tell she _had_ wanted both! In that instant Roland realized Mr. Potter had made a counter proposal, a voluntary interview with the famous Harry Potter—but only if Holly could leave! What was going on???  
          “Of course not,” agreed Rita with ill-disguised grace.  
          “Good,” replied Mr. Potter. “Holly,” he added turning to her, “you can wait for me in the cab. I won’t be too long.”  
          “But—”  
          “Go!” he ordered firmly. “Now!”  
          “Yes, sir,” Holly nodded, her lips trembling. She secured her bag on her shoulder and scooted away from the table.  
          “Thank you for seeing Miss Wycliff safely to the cab,” Mr. Potter told Roland. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”  
          “Yes, sir,” Roland replied. “It was nice meeting you, too.” Roland took Holly’s arm in his and they walked to the entrance. The two wizards rose warningly from their seats as they neared. Holly and Roland hesitated and looked back at Rita. She gave an exaggerated sigh and then tossed her head, her curls bounced up and down, a nod to the two wizards. They sat down again. Roland tugged on Holly’s arm and the two walked to the door.

********************

          “What was that all about!” hissed Roland to Holly when the café door had closed behind them.  
          “Rita doesn’t know about the plaque or the flashbacks,” began Holly in a whisper, “but she does know about the collapse!”  
          “Collapse?”  
          “Oh, Roland, it was horrible!” exclaimed Holly with a sob. And she proceeded to tell Roland about the stadium, the injuries and how Albus Potter had been blamed for everything! “And I can’t even talk about it be cause I’m a … wit- _ness_!” Holly blurbed sobbing.  
          Roland looked from the quivering mass in his arms to the café behind him. Holly was clearly in no state to talk to Rita. He could see why Mr. Potter had insisted Holly leave as a condition of his interview. Rita would have had a field day with Holly! Roland reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a well-worn card. “Stan?” he said speaking into the card. “We need you right away!”  
          The familiar taxi pulled up to the curb and Stan got out. “What’s wrong wi’ ‘olly?” he asked, instantly worried.  
          “She’s tired,” replied Roland. “Come on,” he urged Holly. “Get in the taxi.” Stan opened the door and Holly slid inside. “You have to wait a bit longer for Mr. Potter,” Roland told Stan. “He’s still inside the café.” Stan nodded and started to close the door. “Just a minute,” Roland said and Stan paused. “Move over,” Roland told Holly. “I’m getting in too.”  
          “You don’t have to wait with me,” Holly exclaimed. “I’ll be fine with Stan.”  
          “I know,” agreed Roland, “but I’d rather wait anyway. I wouldn’t feel right just leaving you here alone.” Holly nodded and scooted over making room for Roland. Roland got into the taxi sitting next to Holly. Stan closed the door.  
          “Might as well get comfortable,” he told Holly stretching out his legs as best he could within the confines of the taxi. “Mr. Potter may be a while.”  
          Holly shifted into a more comfortable position leaning up against Roland. “I’m sorry for being such a crybaby,” she whispered.  
          “That’s O.K.,” replied Roland. “You’ve had a hard day. Besides, that’s what friends are for.” He reached over and opened Holly’s bag with Sasha. The cat immediately jumped out and onto Holly’s lap. Holly’s hands automatically reached out to pet Sasha. Roland joined in stroking the cat too. Sasha purred contentedly.  
          “Can you hear Sasha’s purr?” he asked Holly keeping his voice low and calm.  
          “Yes,” whispered Holly sniffing.  
          “Focus on it,” Roland suggested. “Let it fill your mind. You keep listening to Sasha and I’m going to share something I learned in Tibet from the monks.” Roland began reciting a simple chant. It was low, slow, soft and soothing. Holly needed to rest. The chant had put Roland to sleep numerous times as he attempted to meditate with the monks. Perhaps it would work with Holly. Holly gradually stopped stroking Sasha; her hand drifted gently to her lap. Soon Holly’s breathing matched the speed of the chant. Then she fell fast asleep.


	31. Chapter 31

          A blast of cold wind struck Harry Potter’s face when he opened the café door. He welcomed it like a breath of fresh air after his time with Rita Skeeter. It was bad enough to be civil towards her in casual encounters, worse to have to sit there, answer her nasty questions and listen to the way she reinterpreted, warped, and twisted his answers to her own ends.  
          “It felt awful being the father of one accused of trying to murder the whole Slytherin student population but it was probably worse being wrongfully accused like Albus,” Harry told her.  
 _(“He loves his son, of course, but is shocked and embarrassed that a member of his family has been accused of such a heinous crime!” Rita purred as she rapidly wrote.)_  
          “No, I have no idea what it is like to live with a demented child: Albus is not demented!”  
 _(“… no idea Albus was so demented,” said Rita while writing.)_  
          “No they don’t fear for their safety; Albus is innocent!”  
 _(“… family doesn’t fear for their safety, but Albus is being watched closely just in case.”)_  
          “No, he doesn’t believe Albus has been targeting Slytherin students for harassment since the beginning of the school year.”  
 _(…had no idea his son had been harassing Slytherin students since the beginning of the school year.”)_  
          “No, I don’t know why the stadium collapsed but it wasn’t Albus who did it!”  
 _(“… has no idea how Albus could have done such a thing!”)_  
          "Yes, the collapse of the stadium could have been part of some delusion or a deliberate act of attempted murder or something else—but not by Albus!"  
 _(“…no idea why Albus would have done such a thing!”)_  
          "No, Albus did not do it as part of a delusion because he is not delusional! Yes, he _can_ see thestrals but I do not care to comment why!"  
 _(“…denied his son was delusional, as any father would, but had no idea why the boy claimed he could see thestrals…”)_  
          “Yes, Albus has seen Healer Winonan and the family planned to act on any of Winonan’s recommendations.”  
 _(“…currently under treatment by Healer Winonan…”)_  
          “There are no plans to “hide” Albus away from the authorities. Albus has done nothing wrong and has no reason to hide!”  
 _(“… family ashamed of his actions and hope they won’t have to confine him…”)_  
          When Rita pressed for evidence of Albus’ innocence, Harry had told her he could make no comment as the matter was still “under investigation.”  
 _(“…no evidence to back his beliefs, just the unswerving faith of a father that his son is innocent.”)_  
          That line didn’t bother Harry so much as it might place the real culprit off guard making him or her easier to catch! But as for the rest—Harry resolved to apologize to Albus in advance for whatever Rita wrote. He doubted that would be enough.  
          Rita had also asked what Holly’s parents thought of the situation. “I have no idea,” replied Harry firmly. “You’d have to ask them.”  
          “An excellent idea,” purred Rita, “and how might I get in touch with them?”  
          “Write them a letter and I’ll forward it!”  
          Rita scowled. “As if you would!” she muttered. Then she asked Harry about the hospital visit during the summer. At that point Harry declared the interview over. The summer was definitely old news and had nothing to do with the stadium. Rita had to reluctantly agree.  
          Looking up Harry saw Stan’s taxi waiting at the curb. He headed swiftly towards it before Rita thought of something else stadium-related to ask him. Harry hesitated a moment when he saw Roland in the back seat with Holly but then decided it was probably good she hadn’t been left alone.  
          That last flashback had been positively scary! It had been sudden and complete, unlike any flashback Harry had previously observed. Who knew how long Holly might have pounded the walls if Roland hadn’t been there to talk her out of it.  
          Harry moved to the outer side of the taxi and the door behind the driver swung open as he neared. Roland looked up at Harry’s arrival. “Is she O.K.?” Harry asked with concern looking at the still figure leaning against Roland.  
          Roland nodded. “She’s sleeping,” he whispered.  
          Harry nodded relieved. For a moment, he had been afraid Holly had had another flashback of some sort. He got into the taxi and sat down on the other side of Holly.  
          “Where to?” asked Stan from over his shoulder.  
          Harry thought. “Take Mr. Dewitt to wherever he wishes first,” he told Stan softly. “Make that Muggle speed,” he added looking over at Holly. Regular wizard speed might wake her up.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Stan and the taxi took off.

********************

          “Miss Wycliff holds you in high esteem,” Harry quietly said to Roland after they were well under way.  
          “Yes, sir, I guess so,” replied Roland.  
          “It’s why I think seeing you in a Security uniform this summer affected her so much.” Roland didn’t respond. “She is very lucky to have a friend like you,” Mr. Potter added softly.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Roland and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He clearly didn’t like talking about himself.  
          “Sir,” began Roland hesitantly changing the subject. “What you did for Holly back there, so Rita wouldn’t interview her, that was—” he broke off apparently at a loss of words.  
          Harry shrugged. “She’s family,” he said dismissively as if being family were explanation enough. And it was for him; one did what one must to protect family. “Besides,” Harry added, “better here and now when I can choose the place and time.”  
          “You chose?” said Roland in disbelief. “She forced you!”  
          “She’d have pinned me down eventually,” replied Harry calmly. “She was too determined.” And then, because Harry remembered that Luna had mentioned Roland was one of the Auror students, he added more explanation. “Rita comes from a long line of wizards,” he said. “Like you, she’s uncomfortable around Muggles. She’d have done what she threatened, but once I gave in, the rules changed. Rita had to do things the Muggle way to _avoid_ raising a fuss. She had to use _both_ hands to take her notes—one to hold the notebook and one to use her quill. That’s not the way Rita usually works so it made her ill at ease and put her at a disadvantage. That’s why I’m fairly certain Rita didn’t think to send one of her wizard friends to follow you and Holly and listen in on your conversation while you waited for the taxi…”  
          Roland’s jaw dropped. “How did you know…?”  
          “You’re Holly’s friend and mentor,” said Harry patiently. “A _close,_ _trusted_ friend! How could Holly not share with you the news that has been on everyone’s lips for the last two weeks? I don’t think it occurred to Rita that you might not know or that Holly might have something to say beyond standard school gossip.” Harry paused a moment to let Roland think on what the two had said and then added, “It’s those unguarded comments that Rita best likes to use in her reports.”  
          Harry took a breath and then said, “I didn’t totally give in after you two left or Rita would have suspected something; I made Rita to promise she would give as much space to Albus when he is cleared of all charges as she gave to me for this interview.”  
          “Oh,” said Roland thoughtfully. Then he asked worriedly, “You think he’ll be cleared?”  
          Harry hesitated. “What did Holly say?” he finally asked, curious to know how much Holly had said.  
          “She didn’t,” replied Roland. “She said she couldn’t talk about it.”  
          “And she can’t,” confirmed Harry while inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. Rita might have still had someone outside listening just in general principals. “Nor can I. But I can tell you that there is no way Albus would willingly do something like this and I will not rest until he is cleared of all charges.”  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Roland politely. Harry could tell Roland didn’t know quite what to believe. But then, he didn’t know what had happened. “Sir?” began Roland again after a moment.  
          “Yes?”  
          “Will she keep her word?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “About the space in the newspaper. Will Ms. Skeeter give Albus as much news space as she gave you if he is cleared?”  
 _If,_ not _when_. Holly’s explanation must not have been too positive concerning Albus’ prospects. Harry shrugged. “Who knows,” he answered philosophically. “If she does, great. If she doesn’t, then it’s one more reason to refuse to do future interviews with her…” Harry knew Rita only promised because she was convinced of Albus’ guilt; he had made the demand primarily to stall for time—to insure Holly could get to the taxi without interference. Once inside, Harry knew Stan would keep the reporters away.  
          The taxi glided to a stop. Harry looked up. They were next to a deserted lot filled with trash. Roland must live somewhere around here but Harry didn’t ask. It was probably an unplottable home and it was bad manners to inquire further.  
          Roland looked down at Holly resting upon his shoulder. “Wake up, Holly,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. “Time for me to go.”  
          Holly stirred. She raised her head and looked around staring in surprise at Cousin Harry on the other side of her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t mean to.”  
          “That’s O.K.,” laughed Roland. “Those Tibetan chants tend to put me to sleep too. I’ve got to get home now or my family will start to worry,” he told her. “Thank you for the meal, Mr. Potter,” he added. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”  
          “The pleasure was mine,” he replied cordially. “Thank you for all your help, Mr. Dewitt.”  
          Roland opened the door and stepped out of the taxi.  
          “Bye,” said Holly waiving.  
          “See you later,” promised Roland waiving back and he shut the door.

********************

          “Where to next?” asked Stan looking over his shoulder.  
          “Ah, give us a minute,” replied Cousin Harry. Holly looked up at him quizzically. “The choice is yours,” he told Holly while adjusting his glasses.  
          “Huh?”  
          “You’ve been to Grimmauld Place, proven to yourself that it is still there, there is no need to return, ever,” he told her. “I won’t force you to stay in a place that gives you flashbacks. If you’d like me to make other arrangements for the night I will. You can stay with the Weasleys, if you wish,” he began. “Or I can set up a Muggle place for you. There are probably several Hufflepuffs living within London that you can stay with as well.”  
          That was true, acknowledged Holly remembering the list she had been given to memorize. “If you don’t mind, sir,” began Holly. “I’d rather go to Grimmauld Place. It’s familiar and I’ll be fine as long as I don’t go to the kitchen.”  
          Cousin Harry raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that rather like avoiding the whole problem?”  
          Holly laughed. “As if going to the Weasleys isn’t?”  
          “Touché,” acknowledged Cousin Harry ruefully.  
          “Besides, I want to see Albus,” Holly admitted soberly. “And I can’t do that at the Weasleys.”  
          “No,” he agreed solemnly. “You can’t. Take us to Grimmauld Place,” Cousin Harry told Stan.  
          “Right away!” Stan replied and the taxi took off.  
          “I can easily avoid the kitchen,” Holly added while holding on to the armrest as the taxi made a sharp right-angle turn. Nobody had mentioned “Muggle” speed. “And some of the other places where I know flashbacks are likely to happen. But there is one flashback I can’t avoid…”  
          “Oh?” Cousin Harry’s grip on the armrest tightened as the cab twisted the other way.  
          “Yes,” continued Holly. “It’s one I’m hoping you can help me with.”  
          “If I can...”  
          “It’s Peter Pettigrew!” said Holly.  
          “Pettigrew?” Holly immediately felt Cousin Harry tense up and his emotions darkened with the mere mention of his name.  
          “Can you tell me about him?” she asked. “I wouldn’t bother you,” Holly continued in a rush before Cousin Harry could say “no.” “But he whispers to me _every day_ when I go up those stairs and I can’t stop hearing all the hateful things he says each time! I’m hoping maybe you can tell me something about him, something that will enable me to banish that flashback forever!”  
          The taxi slammed to a stop. “Ere ya are!” announced Stan cheerfully. “Yer bags have already been dropped off,” he told them.  
          “Thank you, Stan,” said Cousin Harry cordially. He opened the door on his side and got out.  
          The door on Holly’s side opened of its own accord. Sasha leaped out. Holly grabbed her bag, scooted to the edge of the seat, got out and stepped onto the sidewalk. She felt hopeful about her request for more information on Pettigrew. At least Cousin Harry hadn’t flat out refused Holly’s request. Cousin Harry joined Holly at the curbside.  
          “Have a nice night,” called Stan before driving off.  
          “Would you like the honors?” Cousin Harry asked Holly as the two faced the buildings labeled numbers eleven and thirteen.  
          “No, thank you,” replied Holly. “It’s your house now; you should do it.”  
          Cousin Harry nodded. While Holly watched a third house seemed to squish in between the other two. It seemed to take no time at all to completely form.  
          “Let’s get inside before Rita catches up,” Cousin Harry suggested when house number twelve quit growing and moving.  
          “Rita!” exclaimed Holly suddenly remembering. “Are you O.K.?”  
          “I’m fine,” Cousin Harry assured her. “I only told Rita what she already knows or thinks she knows. It’ll be a nasty news article,” he added as they walked up the stairs. “But that’s Rita.” Cousin Harry reached a hand out and opened the door. Holly immediately closed her eyes tightly rather than risk being greeted by Sirius. _“Some other day,”_ she thought as she quickly took Cousin Harry’s arm and walked inside with him.

********************

          “Welcome home,” greeted Ginny hugging Cousin Harry in the entryway. “And you too,” she added giving Holly a hug too. “How are you?” she asked.  
          “Fine,” answered Holly feeling suddenly shy.  
          “Holly!” squealed Lily greeting Holly with a warm hug of her own. Her snowy kitten Sapphire, now a young cat, rubbed itself against Holly’s legs and batted playfully at Sasha. “You’re finally here!”  
          “Hey, Lily,” greeted Holly in return. “How are you?”  
          “Fine, now that you are here!” she replied happily. And she did seem fine, at least much better than she had been last fall. Holly knew the Hufflepuffs no longer teased Lily and she had heard Lily had finally found a friend amongst the Gryffindors although she didn’t know whom.  
          “So she is,” agreed Ginny. “Now, off to bed with you,” she said lovingly. “It’s been a long day. I’ll be up in a minute.”  
          “Yes, mum,” replied Lily. “Night, dad,” she said giving Cousin Harry a hug.  
          “Good night, Lily,” he said affectionately hugging her warmly back.  
          “Night,” she told Holly and then headed up the stairs followed by her cat.  
          “I’ve some hot chocolate waiting for you in the living room,” she told Holly. “Would you like some?”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly. You could never go wrong with hot chocolate.  
          “Come along, then.” And Holly followed Ginny into the living room. Ginny walked over to a small tray on a coffee table and poured out some steaming chocolate into two mugs. She handed one to Cousin Harry and the other to Holly.  
          “Thank you,” murmured Holly pausing to inhale the enticing aroma.  
          “No problem,” replied Ginny cordially. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to tuck Lily in.” She moved swiftly out of the room.  
          Holly looked around the room. It was lit with several torches placed high in the wall and had a crackling fire in the fireplace that sent out a welcoming light and heat. James was seated comfortably in a chair to one side near the fire polishing his broom.  
          “Hello, Holly,” James greeted looking up from his work. “Have a seat.”  
          “Hi,” said Holly taking an empty seat across from the fire. She liked to watch the flames. Sasha was off chasing Sapphire leaping in delight in play.  
          “How was the Healer’s appointment?” James asked curiously.  
          “Fine, I guess,” answered Holly not wanting to go into details. “I have to go back again tomorrow morning for a follow-up visit, though.” She took a sip of her chocolate. It tasted as good as it smelled.  
          “Oh,” said James. “I hope it turns out O.K.”  
          “Me, too,” agreed Holly. “Where’s Albus?” she asked as James returned his attention back to the work on his broom.  
          “Bed,” he replied briefly while running his rag studiously up and down his broomstick.  
          “Really?” asked Holly surprised. It wasn’t all that late.  
          “Yeah. Albus said he was tired. I don’t think he is sleeping too well these days.”  
          “No,” agreed Holly. “I guess not.” Given what James had told Holly about Albus earlier, Holly wasn’t sure that weariness was the reason Albus had retired early but she didn’t inquire further.  
          Cousin Harry sat down with his chocolate in an easy chair across from Holly and took a sip from his drink. “It feels good to finally relax,” he said while stretching out his legs. He set the chocolate down and pulled out a book from between the cushions. Opening it, he thumbed through the pages stopping somewhere in the middle to read.  
          “What took you so long?” Ginny asked Cousin Harry when she returned into the room. “I expected you home much earlier.”  
          “Rita Skeeter wanted an interview,” replied Cousin Harry dryly. Holly could feel Ginny tense up at the news.  
          “At the station?” questioned Ginny. “I heard about that.”  
          “No, at the café,” informed Cousin Harry putting down his book. “She was … persistent. I’ll tell you about it later,” he added taking another sip of his chocolate. “Now, I have something to tell Holly.” He looked over at Holly through his glasses as he spoke.  
          “Oh?” said Ginny looking curiously at Holly. “Then perhaps we’d best give you some privacy. Come on James.” James obediently set down his polishing things and began to stand.  
          “No,” said Cousin Harry suddenly. “There is no need for you to leave, either of you. You can both stay and listen if you wish.”  
          Holly understood their confusion as they both sat down. Cousin Harry had always kept his business with Holly private.  
          “Holly has asked to hear about Peter Pettigrew,” informed Cousin Harry when Ginny and James had gotten settled. “There’s no reason you can’t hear about him too.” Holly sensed a spike of interest in James; he knew about the stairs. Ginny was just as curious but waited patiently.  
          “Peter Pettigrew hung out with my dad and his friends before he married my mum, Lily. I guess he was considered a friend at the time,” Cousin Harry began thoughtfully, “but he didn’t turn out to be much of one…”

*********************

          “That’s horrible!” whispered Ginny when Cousin Harry described Pettigrew’s death.  
          “We escaped after that,” Cousin Harry added finishing his story without further details and Holly felt this sudden surge of pain and sorrow. She guessed that was when Dobby, the elf, must have somehow rescued them and then died. “I never liked the guy,” he added softly. “No,” Cousin Harry corrected himself. “I hated him for what he did to my parents and Sirius. But I didn’t want him to die like that! Never like that!” Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “That’s all I know about the man,” concluded Cousin Harry. “I hope that helps, Holly,” he added looking over at her.  
         “I hope so too,” replied Holly softly. If it didn’t, Holly knew she wouldn’t be asking Cousin Harry any more questions about Peter Pettigrew. Cousin Harry’s emotional control had slipped during his story of Peter Pettigrew; she could sense the intensity of the rage, guilt and despair that still resided within Cousin Harry when he spoke or thought of Peter Pettigrew. This time, Holly had not only felt it, but understood why he felt that way. She wouldn’t ask Cousin Harry to relive those emotions. “Thank you, sir,” she told him. “I, I think I should be going to bed, now,” Holly added rising from her seat. “It’s been a long day,” she added explaining.  
          Cousin Harry nodded. “Good night,” he told her quietly.  
          “Good night,” Holly replied speaking to everyone and walked out of the room. She wasn’t all that tired. The nap in the taxi had revived her, but Holly sensed that Cousin Harry needed some time alone with his family…

********************

          “Is that my favorite Hufflepuff I see walking by?” said a friendly voice on the wall.  
          “Mr. Black!” greeted Holly stopping to talk to the portrait. “How are you?”  
          “More importantly, how are you?” asked the slender man with gray-black hair, thin black eyebrows and a pointed beard in the portrait.  
          “Fine, I guess,” answered Holly. “A little tired, though, but otherwise all right,” she elaborated.  
          “You gave us quite a scare back in the Headmistress’ office, you know,” he told her in his high reedy voice.  
          “Did I?” asked Holly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened. I want to thank you for talking with him for me,” she added.  
          “Him?” blustered Mr. Black.   “What makes you think I did that?”  
          “Because you did,” insisted Holly. “I know you did,” she added. “That’s the kind of person you are.”  
          “Humph!” said Mr. Black trying to look nonchalant.  
          Holly looked at his proud figure and then sighed.  
          “What is it?” he asked, immediately concerned.  
          “Nothing,” she told him. “I just wish the rest of the Slytherins were like you and Headmaster Snape.”  
          “What? Dead?” exclaimed Mr. Black.  
          “Oh, no!” Holly hastened to assure him, “Of course not! I just wish they were all as nice as you and the Headmaster. “I mean the Slytherins have always been a bit snooty and stand-offish,” she added, “but this year they’ve been downright mean!”  
          “Oh.” Mr. Black looked a bit downcast at that. “We’re not all bad,” he finally said. “Honest. Don’t let a couple of bad apples ruin the barrel,” he told her encouragingly.  
          “Yes, sir, I’ll try,” said Holly with resignation. “I think I’d best get to bed now,” she added not in the mood to talk. “Good night, sir,” she told him dipping into a small curtsey.  
          “Good night,” replied Mr. Black giving Holly a courtly bow in return. “Sleep well.”

********************

          “Holly? Are you awake?” A loud knock sounded on the door and then it opened and Ginny Potter swept cheerily in. Holly stirred and opened a bleary eye. “Good morning,” said Mrs. Potter. “Time to get up.”  
          “Mmmmh,” mumbled Holly closing her eye trying to ignore the perky person in her room and go back to sleep.  
          “Did you sleep well?” persisted Ginny.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly. In actuality, it had been her best night since the collapse—there were no nightmares of others to wake her.  
          “I’d let you sleep in longer,” continued Ginny apologetically, “but I understand you are supposed to meet with Healer Winonan in the morning and I thought it might be a good idea if you got there before noon.”  
          Holly sighed and reluctantly sat up.  
          “I’ve breakfast all ready for you, too,” continued Ginny. “It’s just outside the door.” Holly looked past Ginny and through the opened door and saw nothing. “Oh, not your door,” added Ginny noting Holly’s glance. “It’s outside Albus’ door. He hasn’t had breakfast either. I don’t really want you eating alone and since you’re not going to the kitchen I figured the two of you could eat up here together. You don’t mind, do you?”  
          “Uh, no, no I don’t,” replied Holly. She had wanted to see Albus anyway. Breakfast with him would be nice.  
          “That’s great,” said Ginny shining Holly a bright smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready, now.” And Ginny swept out of the room closing the door behind her.  
          It looked like her time for with Albus was limited because of the second Healer visit so Holly got up and rapidly dressed. She found a tray set outside a nearby door in the hall. It was filled with food—porridge, scones, ham, bacon, cereal, milk, juice, tea… The quantity vaguely reminded Holly of the amount of food she was served when she first met Cousin Harry.  
        Holly raised her hand and knocked on the door.  
          “Go away!” came Albus’ voice from inside. “I already told you I’m not hungry!”  
          “But I am!” protested Holly. There was silence on the other side so Holly continued. “I’m _not_ eating in the kitchen and your mum doesn’t want me eating alone so can I come in and eat my breakfast with you? You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, of course,” Holly added, “but I’ve got to see Healer Winonan this morning and my time is kind of limited...”  
          There was a longer silence but Holly waited.  
          Then, “All right, you can come in.”  
          Holly picked up the tray and turned the knob. Then she pushed the door opened and stepped inside.

********************

          The room was dark, really dark. The curtains were closed and a single candle lit a corner but even it seemed small and dim. Next to the candle sat Albus. He didn’t look up at Holly’s entrance. He just stared at the wall. His emotions were—desolate!  
          Holly set the tray of food on a bed and searched for the edge of a curtain. Finding it, she pulled hard forcing the curtains apart bringing in more light.  
          “Hey!” exclaimed Albus in protest squinting in the light. “I like it dark!”  
          “And I like to see what I’m eating,” countered Holly. “That itty bitty flame isn’t near enough light. I don’t know your family’s cooking. It’s not like I can tell by touch… How are you?” she asked picking up a scone.  
          “Fine,” said Albus.  
          Holly ignored his lie as she buttered the scone and then spooned on a generous amount of jam, strawberry by the look of it. “You look awful,” she said bluntly while placing the scone on a plate. And indeed he did. Albus looked thin, too thin. His pale skin appeared starkly white against his black hair. His clothes were all rumpled and hung loosely on his shoulders. Holly doubted he had slept at all during the night.  Leaving the first scone for Albus, Holly picked up a second scone and began to butter it.  
          “I said I wasn’t hungry!” retorted Albus finally looking at Holly. His green eyes were rimmed with deep purple sockets confirming lack of sleep.  
          “Don’t you know it’s rude to make me eat alone?” replied Holly tartly. She took a bite of her buttery scone. Delicious! Then she looked back at Albus. He had ignored the scone and was again staring at the wall. “You didn’t do it,” she assured him. “I know you didn’t.”  
          “Yeah, so I’ve heard,” said Albus. He didn’t sound convinced.  
          “No, really, you can’t have done it; I just know it!”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Albus dully. “Big deal.” Somehow the thought of his innocence didn’t make him feel any better.  
          Holly looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t get it,” she began after finishing up the scone. She reached for a second one. “If you know you didn’t do it, why are you so … upset?”  
          Albus didn’t answer but Holly could sense he was ready to explode so she waited. “I didn’t do it,” he finally said. “I didn’t do _any_ thing!”  
          “Huh?”  
          “I just stood there and let it happen!!!” he elaborated.  
          “But I’m sure you would have done something if you could have,” began Holly.  
          “I _should_ have done something and I didn’t!” he said with anguish. “I’m Gryffindor,” Albus continued proudly. “We’re supposed to be brave and daring! I should have _done_ something!” he repeated with conviction. “Instead, I let all those students get hurt!”  
          “But—”  
          “My dad fought off Lord Voldemort when he was a baby!” added Albus with a rush. “And he did it again when he was eleven! Then he fought and killed a basilisk saving my mum! And then he saved –”  
          “He didn’t save Cedric!” interrupted Holly coldly.  
          “Huh?”  
          “You surely remember the account in the _Prophet!_ ” she reminded him. Albus might forget about Cedric Diggory but Holly couldn’t, not when she walked past his memorial in the Hufflepuff library nearly every day. Especially not after seeing him during the summer in “real” life, so to speak, seeing the person he might have become. “Remember? He was right there when Lord Voldemort ordered, _“Kill the spare!”_ and Cedric Diggory just _died!_ ” Holly now knew it was Pettigrew who cast that spell. That horrid squeaky voice she had to listen to was also a cold-blooded murderer! Holly shoved that thought aside and continued.  
          “He was there when Sirus Black died,” Holly added remembering what Ginny had told her in the fall. “Did you know that?” Holly was certain Albus didn’t. She put down her scone and brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “Cousin Harry told me he was there when Albus Dumbledore died, too!” Holly told Albus softly. “The one person he probably loved like a father! Don’t you think he would have stopped it if he could?” Holly paused and let her words sink in. She could tell it had never occurred to Albus that his dad, the famous Harry Potter, had ever failed. She sat down on the bed taking care to insure the tray didn’t tip. Then Holly took a sip of orange juice and added in a low voice. “Being brave and daring doesn’t guarantee success. I think your dad never talks about what happened with Lord Voldemort because it reminds him of all the times he failed—the losses—when he couldn’t save somebody! And those thoughts still haunt him—big time. Believe me, I know!” Albus would too, had he listened to Cousin Harry’s story last night.  
          “Course,” Holly added dismissively while spooning up some eggs and putting them on her plate, “I think Cousin Harry never gave up like you have.”  
          “What!” exclaimed Albus defensively.  
          “Look at you!” Holly explained. “Somebody framed you for one of the worst crimes imaginable and you’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself instead of trying to find who did it!”  
          “But they said they were investigating….”  
          “The Slytherins say it’s just a ruse to keep you free,” retorted Holly coldly. “After all, there were three _Gryffindors_ at the meeting...”  
          “They would never!” replied Albus aghast at the thought.  
          Holly took a bite of eggs. “No, they wouldn’t,” she agreed calmly after swallowing, “but you would never forgive yourself if they succeed in clearing you and you had done nothing to help out! Yet here you sit!” she continued. “You’re so weak and tired from lack of food and sleep that I doubt you could hold a wand properly let alone say a spell that would work should you actually run into the villain! Don’t deny it,” Holly added taking another bite of food. “I’m an Empath, remember? And right now I’m so hungry I can eat enough for two!” Holly took another bite of eggs to emphasize her point. “It would help me if you ate something,” she suggested. “A lot!”  
          “I’m not hungry!” Albus muttered stubbornly but he reached out and picked up the plate with the buttered scone.  
          Then Holly added, “Right now, I bet your mind is so muddled you probably wouldn’t recognize a clue if you heard one!”  
          “I can think just fine!” he protested as he took a bite of the scone.  
          “Then think about finding who did this to you!” Holly retorted.  
          “But nobody’s supposed to talk—”  
          “I can’t talk; James can’t talk; but you don’t need us to,” replied Holly. “You were there too, you know. Use your own memories!”  
          “I haven’t got any,” confessed Albus.  
          “Then you know about as much as me. I was in the stadium when it happened, on the field afterwards and didn’t know you were missing until James came and found me. What about the evidence?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “What evidence is there against you?”  
          “I was there! Isn’t that enough?”  
          “No,” replied Holly patiently. “We didn’t _see_ you do anything. So is there any evidence?”  
          “I don’t know…”  
          “You don’t? Well you should!” Holly scolded. “No one has more right to that information than you. Ask your dad!” Holly added seeing the blank look on Albus’ face. “I’m sure he knows.”  
          Albus nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of milk. “But what do I do then?”  
          “Can’t help you there,” replied Holly practically while grabbing a strip of bacon. “That all depends on what Cousin Harry says. But I’m sure you’ll think of something…”  
          The two ate in silence a while.  
          “Didn’t you say you had to see the healer this morning?” Albus asked suddenly after drinking some orange juice.  
          “Yes.” Holly was relieved to note Albus’ emotions had returned to something more resembling normal.  
          “But I thought you were supposed to see Healer Winonan yesterday once you got off the train.”  
          “I did,” agreed Holly. “But, um,” she hesitated. What happened in the Healer’s office was nothing she wanted to talk about, but Albus would understand, probably better than anyone else, and she liked that he was taking interest in something other than himself. “They pulled a fast one on me,” she added quickly.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yeah, Healer Winonan wanted to see one of my flashbacks in person so he fixed it so I’d have one in the office!”  
          “Is that possible?”  
          “I guess so,” reflected Holly hating that she had been so easily manipulated. “If you know the right buttons to push."  
          “So what happened?”  
          “I had a flashback!” she recalled. “A bad one—like on the train!” Holly added not wanting to go into details.  
          “Ohhh!” said Albus sympathetically. “That’s awful!”  
          “Yeah!” agreed Holly. “Nothing like being scared out of your mind while somebody calmly stands by taking notes!” She squished her eyes shut remembering how embarrassed she had felt when she realized where she was, who was there and what had happened.  
          “They gave me veritaserum,” recalled Albus absently while looking down at his food. “Healer Winonan kept on asking me questions and I didn’t know the answers. I’ve never felt so stupid in my life, or helpless.”  
          “Mmmm,” said Holly understandingly. She stirred the food on her plate aimlessly and then said, “I’m supposed to see Healer Winonan today to find out what I’ve got. But I don’t think he knows. I’ve been reading in the medical books and can’t find a thing that matches my symptoms…”  
          The two of them continued to eat in silence, each consumed with his or her own thoughts.  
          “Holly?”  
          Both Holly and Albus looked up. Cousin Harry was standing in the open doorway. Sometimes Cousin Harry’s emotions were real quiet.  
          “Are you about finished?” he asked her. “We’ve got to be going.”  
          “Yes, sir,” said Holly hastily scooping up the last of the eggs with her fork and putting them in her mouth. “All finished,” she announced. She stood while gulping down the last of her juice and then wiped her face quickly with a napkin.  
          “Morning, dad,” said Albus rather cheerfully after he finished the last of his milk. His hunger was somewhat abated and his mood was infinitely better than what Holly had initially felt.  
          “Morning,” came Cousin Harry’s calm voice turning his attention to his son. “How are you feeling?” he asked with concern.  
          “Fine,” replied Albus and this time he was fine. Of course Albus was still extremely tired, weak and hungry, but Holly had a feeling that would all change soon; he would have no trouble getting to sleep if he tried. She saw an expression of relief flash across Cousin Harry’s face and he smiled at Albus. “Good.”  
          “Uh, dad,” began Albus hesitantly, “I’d like to talk with you, when you have time.”  
          “I’d like that too,” he said quietly. “How about this afternoon after I get back from taking Holly home…”  
          “That would be great!”


	32. Chapter 32

          “Hello, Mrs. Wycliff. How are you on this fine December day?” Cousin Harry and Holly stood at the opened doorway of Holly’s house.  
          “Hi mum!” greeted Holly giving her mum a warm hug. Holly grabbed her bag and slipped into the house with Sasha while mum exchanged pleasantries with Cousin Harry. When Holly returned Cousin Harry had already shed his outer coat and scarf and was seated in the living room across from dad. Mum was in the process of bringing in a tray of tea. Vernon was sitting quietly in a back corner of the room trying to be invisible. He clearly wanted to listen in and was probably hoping no one would think to send him out.  
          “…my family is fine,” Cousin Harry was telling mum calmly. “Thank you for inquiring.”  
          Holly briefly wondered what dad would do if he learned about the stadium collapse and the accusations against Albus. _“Not much,”_ she decided. Dad’s reasons for asking Cousin Harry to be her guardian had nothing to do with anything Cousin Harry’s family may or may not have done in the wizard world. Dad didn’t like wizards anyway so an incident that injured wizards wouldn’t overly distress him. Being visited by another wizard, however, would—especially an obnoxious nosy reporter. Holly resolved to tell mum about Rita so the family wouldn’t be caught totally off guard should Rita Skeeter manage to come knocking. Rita had seemed pretty determined in the café.  
          Just to get to her house today, Mr. Weasley and his daughter Rose had met Holly and Cousin Harry in the Healer Winonan’s office at the end of Holly’s visit. The two then took polyjuice to change their appearances. Afterwards, Holly had given Rose her cat carrying bag and watched them walk out of the office. The disguised two continued out the front door and into the waiting taxi. Only, it wasn’t Stan behind the wheel, but his son Rupert with his cap pulled down low. Stan was in the limo waiting at the Muggle exit. While Holly and Cousin Harry were driving to her home, Rupert had driven the Weasleys all over Great Britain finishing at Diagon Alley. By that time, the polyjuice had worn off. Rose and Mr. Weasley exited the taxi for a day of holiday shopping.  
          Holly sat down on the sofa next to dad and squeezed his hand by way of greeting. He looked at her lovingly and squeezed back.  
          “How’s Holly?” Dad asked Cousin Harry bluntly.  
          “As you can see for yourself,” replied Cousin Harry in a mild voice. “Holly is fine.”  
          “That’s not what I mean!” retorted dad angrily. “What about, you know, why she visited the doctor yesterday?”  
 _“And this morning,”_ added Holly silently.  
          “The flashbacks?”  
          “Yes. Is that all taken care of?”  
          “No,” admitted Cousin Harry reluctantly while taking a sip of tea. “Holly still has flashbacks.”  
          That was putting it lightly, especially if dad had seen her yesterday.  
          “So what’s wrong with her; what’d the doctor say?”  
          “He said,” Cousin Harry paused, and Holly held her breath wondering what he would say, “she has flashbacks,” Cousin Harry finished. Holly closed her eyes and exhaled in relief. Some things dad just didn’t need to know…  
          “I knew that!” protested dad. “What’s she got?”  
          “As I explained before,” began Cousin Harry, “nothing of this nature has ever occurred in the wi-among “our lot” so we have no fancy name or diagnosis.”  
          “So what are you doing about it!” dad demanded.  
          “Basically, we plan to continue doing what we were doing before,” replied Cousin Harry.  
          “That wasn’t much,” muttered dad. Dad was always at his worst around Cousin Harry.  
          “Perhaps,” agreed Cousin Harry in a mild tone though his emotions were less than mild; Cousin Harry wasn't much better around dad, “but it helped quite a bit. He-Doctor Winonan pointed out that according to Holly’s journal, the incidents of flashbacks have considerably reduced in number and those that remain tend to be of a predictable nature or location specific and therefore avoidable or, at least, manageable.” Cousin Harry took another sip of tea and placed the cup carefully back on its saucer. “In other words, she appears to be getting better.” Dad seemed to relax a bit at that. “And as long as she shows improvement, there is no reason to change what we’re doing.”  
           And good reason not to. Healer Winonan doubted the flashbacks could be stopped magically without also removing the original memory. He said that they could easily erase the memories of those fateful three days but that was no guarantee the flashbacks would go with them. Holly might find herself in the position of experiencing flashbacks without understanding their origins, which would make them seem even more terrifying and harder to eliminate. Potions could erase memories too, but would that erase the flashbacks well? It would require trial and error to determine the effectiveness of various potions and/or spells. The resulting effort might leave Holly’s mind full of holes, rather like Swiss cheese.  
          “Location specific,” said mum curiously. “What’s that mean?”  
          “It means she sees or hears a specific flashback each time she visits the same location.”  
          “For example?” persisted mum.  
          Cousin Harry looked over at Holly for an answer. Holly fidgeted uncomfortably trying to think of a flashback she could share. “Ghosts!” she said abruptly.  
          “Huh?”  
          “Gray ghosts.” That’s what Ravindra had called them. “They swirl around overhead about ten meters outside the school entrance,” Holly continued explaining. “Nobody sees them but me. When I look down, I don’t see them either. They disappear after I pass under them.” That’s when Pettigrew took over but Holly wasn’t about to mention that. “The ghosts aren’t really there; I don’t know how to stop from seeing them but they don’t hurt either,” she added calmly.  
          “But I don’t understand,” said dad curiously. “Why would you be seeing ghosts?”  
          “I saw them during the summer at that same location, swirling around overhead,” replied Holly vaguely. “And I still see them even though they’re not actually there. The ghosts were kind of scary the first time I saw them,” Holly admitted, “but now it’s no big deal. I just ignore them and keep on walking…” If only she could ignore Pettigrew.  
          “What do you want us to do?” asked mum.  
          “Pretty much the same thing you did before,” replied Cousin Harry. “Holly will have to keep her journal current, of course, but other than that,” he paused in reflection. “Just keep an eye on her. She was fine with you during the summer; she should be fine now.” Cousin Harry set his cup and saucer down on the coffee table. “Are there any other questions?”  
          Holly could tell Mum was bursting with questions but thankfully, she politely shook her head “no.”  
          “Good. I have a family to be getting back to,” said Cousin Harry. He stood. Mum, dad and Holly stood up too. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Cousin Harry told mum and headed for the door.  
          “Say “hi” to Albus for me,” piped up Vernon suddenly.  
          Cousin Harry stopped and turned to look at Vernon in his corner. “I’ll do that,” he told Vernon solemnly.  
          “Thank you so much for coming and taking the time to talk with us.” Mum said as she handed Cousin Harry his coat and scarf.  
          “Yeah,” mumbled dad in reluctant agreement.  
          “It was no problem,” Cousin Harry replied easily as he put his things on. Mum opened the door. “Have a happy holiday,” he told the family as he stepped outside.  
          “You too!” replied mum.  
          “I’ll see you in January,” he added giving a slight wave. Mum waved back and closed the door.

********************

          “Ki—ah!” Holly and Vernon were both bundled up in the garage practicing Tang Soo Do. Holly had insisted on continuing lessons the minute Cousin Harry had left. After all, she reminded her parents, Cousin Harry had said Holly should continue doing what she had done during the summer and she had done a lot of Tang Soo Do. “Ki—ah!” Holly twisted and turned completing a section of the first form. She had to take the turns carefully. The floor was a bit slippery and too cold for bare feet. Even with the portable heater going full blast in the garage Holly had to wear thermals underneath the regular Tang Soo Do outfit and wooly socks on her feet.  
          Holly had gotten Vernon to take lessons with her. She wasn’t sure if he was taking the lessons because he genuinely wanted to learn or if he just didn’t want to be alone in the house but it didn’t matter. Holly was glad for his company. Vernon had actually gotten into the car and resolutely pulled the seatbelt strap over his shoulder… Holly and Mum both pretended to not notice he never actually _latched_ the belt—just held it in place. Holly suspected mum was so relieved to see Vernon get into cars again that she was willing to overlook the seatbelt part for now.  
          Holly and Vernon turned and punched the empty air with their fists. “Ki—ah!” they shouted in perfect unison. Vernon was doing really well for a beginner. Of course it probably helped that Holly had given him unofficial lessons during the summer. Holly was a bit rusty after her months of inactivity and glad for the excuse to review. She had considered doing Tang Soo Do exercises while at Hogwarts but felt she had imposed on her friends so much by trying to get into the Room of Requirement that she didn’t want to bore them further by making them watch while she practiced.  
          “What do you say we take a break?” asked Vernon after a while. Holly nodded in agreement. They’d had a pretty good work-out so far. Both of them bowed at the imaginary edge of the Dojo and headed towards the heater. Holly reached for her thermos and poured herself a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Vernon grabbed his water bottle and took a drink. He closed his eyes and smiled while he swallowed. Holly smiled too. She remembered how sweet the water had tasted outside the train station. Nothing could beat the taste of water. Vernon looked really good. He had shed all his summer pounds and looked stronger and more confident.  
          “Say, how’s Albus?” asked Vernon after he had taken a second drink.  
          “He’s fi—” started Holly and then stopped. Vernon actually knew Albus and wasn’t asking just to make polite conversation. “Albus is in trouble,” she told him in a low voice while looking around to make sure no one else was in the garage, “real trouble!”  
          “Huh?”  
          And Holly proceeded to tell Vernon all about the collapse of the stadium and how people were blaming Albus for it. Holly knew she wasn’t supposed to talk about what she had seen, but surely that meant other wizards and not family. Vernon was family and a Muggle! Besides, she wasn’t telling him anything new, only that which the whole wizard community already knew.  
          “That’s ridiculous!” scoffed Vernon. “Why would anyone ever think Albus would do something like that? Albus hasn’t a mean bone in his body!”  
          “It’s because of all the harassment,” Holly explained. “Albus has been pushed pretty hard this year.” And she went on to explain about the explosion on the train and how the Slytherins had been picking on Albus ever since…”  
          “And I thought I had problems with Montague!” sympathized Vernon. “But just because Albus has a motive is no reason to assume he did it. There’s got to be more…”  
          “There is,” whispered Holly and she shivered as she thought of it. “Albus was at the base of the stadium when it happened.”  
          “Really?” said Vernon in disbelief. “What does he say happened?”  
          “He can’t remember.” And Holly told Vernon about finding Albus—things she hadn’t said to anyone since the meeting in the Headmistress’s office. It felt so good to tell someone else, to share what she had seen.  
          “Man! Somebody sure did a number on Albus!” said Vernon sympathetically when Holly had finished.  
          “I know,” agreed Holly worriedly. “Wait a minute! You weren’t even there yet you’re certain Albus didn’t do this. What makes you so sure!”  
          “Thick walls, falling stones, no light, no exit—sounds a lot like _the_ _room!”_ replied Vernon promptly. “There’s no way Albus would plan a revenge that would involve recreating that place, ever!”  
          “No,” agreed Holly thoughtfully. “He wouldn’t. But I don’t suppose that’s a reason anyone else would believe. You’d have to have been there to know the effect that room has on someone.”  
          “True.” Vernon took another sip of water. “I’m kind of cold,” he admitted. “Shall we call it quits for today and go back in?”  
          “O.K. And then you can tell me about Montague and that letter you sent me…”

********************

          “Come on, Holly!” called Laurel Wycliff determinedly. “Time to go! We don’t want to be late.” Holly was getting a haircut. Ever since Holly had been attending _that school_ , she had gotten a haircut before her grandparents arrived. Holly was certain her Grandmum would be upset to learn Holly resembled Grandmum Violet’s long dead sister Lily. Personally, Laurel doubted that would ever happen; the Wycliffs doted on their grandchildren so. But Holly insisted on a total appearance change before facing her grandparents and Laurel saw no reason to argue. Vernon had no interest in beauty parlors so the trip gave Laurel an opportunity to finally talk with Holly in private. Laurel had been waiting for this chance ever since they had bid Harry Potter “good-bye.”  
          Holly opened the car door and slid in besides Laurel. She was well bundled for a day of holiday shopping.  
          “Ready?” asked Laurel as Holly pulled her seat belt strap down.  
          “Ready!” answered Holly and Laurel heard the satisfying click of Holly’s belt as it snapped closed. Laurel started the engine, shifted gears and eased the car out of the driveway. It was cold out and lightly snowing but the roads were clear and the weather report predicted fair skies for most of the day.  
          “Have you any idea what presents you want to get for your grandparents?” she asked Holly as she drove.  
          “No.”  
          “Well, maybe we’ll be inspired by something we see in the stores.”  
          “Hopefully,” agreed Holly.  
          ‘So tell me why Rose borrowed your cat carrying bag?” asked Laurel conversationally. Laurel had noticed Sasha had returned home without the bag. Upon inquiry, Holly had mumbled something about Rose borrowing it and hadn’t had the opportunity to return it before they left for home…  
          “Um, she needed it,” said Holly vaguely.  
          Laurel waited. “Why?” Laurel pressed when it became evident a further explanation was not forthcoming.  
          “Well, there’s this lady reporter…” began Holly hesitantly. And Laurel learned for the first time that her family was a source of interest among the wizard world and how Harry Potter had taken considerable pains to keep the reporters away.  
          “If you don’t mind being interviewed by them,” concluded Holly, “I’ll tell Cousin Harry and he’ll set something up. But he figured dad wouldn’t want to be bothered by the other wizards…”  
          “No,” agreed Laurel thoughtfully. “I don’t think your dad would take kindly to interviews by any wizards.” Laurel knew Dillon could barely stand Harry and his friends. Aggressive wizard reporters? Laurel shivered inwardly at the thought.  
          They reached the department store complex that contained the beauty parlor. Laurel selected a parking place and pulled up to a stop. Then she turned off the engine and flicked the switch of the car that locked all the doors.  
          “Mom?” questioned Holly.  
          “We’ve got to talk a bit before we go inside,” replied Laurel calmly. She settled herself more comfortably in the seat.  
          “About what?” Holly asked warily.  
          “About that doctor visit,” answered Laurel.  
          “Cousin Harry already explained all that,” protested Holly.  
          “I heard what he said,” acknowledged Laurel, “but Mr. Potter has a tendency to _omit_ details! As do you,” she added suddenly realizing Holly had been dealing with obnoxious reporters for over a year and had never once said a word! “Now, I realize Mr. Potter may be leaving out information so your father won’t get so upset, but that reason doesn’t work for me. I’d like to know what else the doctor said. _Everything!_ ” And Laurel looked directly at Holly as she spoke. Holly refused to look back staring resolutely out the window instead. Laurel noticed Holly didn’t immediately deny the Doctor had said more—confirmation of Laurel’s suspicions that she and Dillon had received an abbreviated version of the Doctor visit. Now, if she could only convince Holly to tell her the rest…  
          “We’ll be late for my hair appointment,” Holly said instead.  
          “We can always reschedule,” Laurel informed Holly firmly. Actually, the hair appointment was set for late afternoon in anticipation of this particular conversation but Holly didn’t know that. Laurel waited but Holly remained resolutely silent while staring out the side window.  
          Laurel sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I know you and Mr. Potter are trying to protect us,” she told Holly, “but that isn’t your job. I’m your mother!” she reminded Holly. “It’s my job to protect _you_ , not the other way around.” Holly did not respond. “Look, baby,” Laurel pleaded. “You can’t leave us out of the loop this way. Things happen—unexpected things. If you hadn’t told me about that other time I would have never known about the plaque or the name Tom Riddle. I wouldn’t have known to call Harry Potter for help last summer! Someone in this family besides you has to be informed, fully informed, just in case.” Laurel stopped to let Holly think about this. The silence between them grew longer. Laurel watched random flakes of snow drift down as she waited.  
          “The wizards don’t have a name for what I’ve got,” Holly finally whispered. Laurel turned her head to look at Holly. Holly was still looking resolutely out the side window as she spoke, “but perhaps the Muggles do.”  
          “The what?”  
          “The Muggles—non-wizards,” explained Holly. “Healer Winonan found a non-wizard ailment that seemed to match my symptoms. But names don’t matter, really they don’t,” she insisted.  
          “What name?” questioned Laurel fearfully. “What do the, uh, Muggles call it?”  
          A longer silence followed. Laurel waited. Finally Holly answered in a voice so soft Laurel could hardly hear it. “PTSD?”  
          PTSD. Where had Laurel heard of that before? Finally she remembered. “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” she questioned. Holly tipped her head down barely nodding in agreement. “Isn’t that something soldiers get?”  
          Holly tipped her head further down which Laurel took to be another nod. “But, baby, you’re no soldier!” Laurel exclaimed in disbelief.  
          “It isn’t only soldiers that get it,” said Holly turning her head to look at Laurel. Her face was shining—wet with tears. “Healer Winonan says it can happen to anyone who has experienced a terrifying event. He says those three days when I was all alone had to have been very terrifying. He says I was surrounded by enemies, and in fear for my life the whole time.”  
          “But—” Laurel struggled to remember what little she knew of PTSD. “Don’t people with that get nightmares or something?” Holly hadn’t had any nightmares—Laurel was certain of that.  
          “Some people get nightmares,” acknowledged Holly. “But Healer Winonan says that’s not the only symptom of PTSD. He says people with PTSD often have trouble with flashbacks. They can have the flashbacks over and over again—vivid ones—like I do! They even avoid places and people that remind them of what happened earlier. I do that too!” Holly admitted.  
          “Oh, baby!” Laurel said as she reached out to hold Holly. Holly sort-of fell into Laurel’s arms. Laurel tried to absorb the information while Holly sobbed openly.  
          “Don’t tell dad!” Holly finally gulped. “Flashbacks don’t sound like much but PTSD—that sound horrible! I don’t want dad to feel worse than he already does for what happened.”  
          “No,” agreed Laurel remembering how Dillon had been consumed with guilt during the summer. “We don’t need to make your dad feel worse by changing the name. It’s only a name, after all.” She could feel Holly relax in her arms at that. Personally, Laurel was glad Holly’s “condition” had a name she could look up and research on her own. She planned to do just that at the first opportunity.  
          Aloud, Laurel said, “I _would_ like to know what happened last summer... But not now,” she added feeling Holly tense up. Holly immediately relaxed again. “Why don’t you tell me about the gray ghosts instead.”  
          “What?” Holly’s body went rigid at the suggestion.  
          “Those gray ghosts you say you keep seeing as flashbacks,” explained Laurel. “I don’t think Hogwarts has gray ghosts or you would have mentioned them to me earlier. So what are they really?”  
          “Well, they look like gray ghosts,” said Holly in a small voice. Laurel waited. Holly sighed. “They’re called dementors,” she finally answered.  
          “What are dementors?” asked Laurel carefully.  
          “They look sort of like gray ghosts,” replied Holly softly.  
          “And?” prompted Laurel.  
          “They were guarding Hogwarts…”  
          “How?” Laurel asked pointedly.  
          There was a longer pause before Holly finally sighed again and answered, “They kind of suck the happiness out of you and don’t say anything about them to daddy,” she added in a rush, “because one went after him once and if he knew they were ever at Hogwarts then he’d say the school was too dangerous and—”  
          “And he wouldn’t want you to attend there,” finished Laurel having heard all this before. “Yes, I know,” she told Holly. “And he’s right,” Laurel continued. “That place _is_ dangerous! Deadly, in fact! But you know what else? And I find this thought rather scary,” Laurel brushed some of the strands of blonde hair from Holly’s face before continuing. “It is the way my sweet little baby manages to hold her own over there! Don’t worry, Holly,” she assured her daughter. “I won’t try to keep you from Hogwarts because I know that whatever happens there, you’re up for it.”  
          “Oh, mum!” and Holly twisted to give Laurel a true hug. “Thank you!”  
          “Mmmm,” said Laurel. “I’ll probably regret this.”  
          “You won’t, mum, I promise,” assured Holly hugging her again.  
          “So I take it these, ah, dementors did a number on you right?” asked Laurel keeping her voice casual. Laurel found the thought of something out there capable of sucking out happiness positively horrifying but realized if she expressed those feelings Holly would probably clam up ending Laurel’s chances to learn what else happened during those three days.  
          “Y-yes,” admitted Holly softly. “I should have remembered about them—I saw dementors outside the window the first time but I forgot. I doubt knowing about them would have helped…” she added reflectively.  
          “Mmmm. I guess that explains why you still see them now.”  
          “Probably. But the flashbacks just fly around. They don’t do any harm.”  
          “What about the other flashbacks?” Laurel asked.  
          “They’re nothing, nothing really,” Holly said quickly, too quickly.  
          “That’s what you said about the dementors,” reminded Laurel. “They don’t sound like “nothing” to me.” Laurel gently disengaged an arm, reached down to her purse and pulled out a small pink and white book. She had found it under Holly’s pillow.  
          “Mum!” cried out Holly aghast when she saw the book. “How could you?!” That confirmed Laurel’s suspicion that it indeed was the notebook Holly was using to record her flashback experiences.  
          “Don’t worry. I haven’t looked inside,” Laurel assured Holly while holding the book out of reach.” Then she added, “I thought we could do that together.”  
          “No!” Holly exclaimed and watched helplessly as Laurel resolutely opened the book.  
          “It’s medical, you know,” Laurel told Holly, “and I need to know more about the flashbacks you’ve been experiencing.” Laurel turned to the back of the book, thumbed through the pages until she found the most recent entry.  
          “This is for yesterday!” Laurel said in amazement. “You had a flashback yesterday?”  
          Holly nodded reluctantly.  
          “And you never said anything?”  
          “It was nothing,” Holly told Laurel. Laurel looked closer at the entry. Holly had listed the location as a specific street Laurel usually took on the way to Karate. There was the single word “security” and a neat “1” inked in next to it.  
          “What’s security?” Laurel questioned.  
          “Just the officials they had,” Holly mumbled. “Kind of like Bobbies.”  
          “So what? This security official stood in the middle of the street directing traffic or something?”  
          “No, of course not!”  
          “Well, what?” Laurel demanded insisting on more information.  
          The silence between them grew uncomfortably long before Holly finally answered. “He just sort of ... flew by…” she said in a small voice.  
          “Flew?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Like a ghost?”  
          “No, of course not!” Laurel waited. Holly sighed and added, “He was on a broom!”  
          “A broom?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “And he just sort of flew by?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Well,” concluded Laurel while trying to hide her amazement at the thought of people flying through the streets. “I guess that would be a bit surprising.”  
          “Yes, but it doesn’t hurt anything.”  
          “No, I suppose not,” agreed Laurel. “But I want to know about the next person that “flies by” understand?”  
          “Yes, ma’am.”  
          Laurel turned back the pages of the book and stopped in shock. “Isn’t Mungo’s that wizard hospital of yours?” she asked.  
          “Yes.”  
          “You’ve got a flashback recorded there!” Laurel observed with alarm. “And it’s a “five!” she noted out loud. Whatever a “five” was. There was also the name “Roland” printed next to it. Laurel remembered Dillon had mentioned that name and was certain Holly had not experienced a simple “fly-by” at the hospital. “Is it even safe for you to go there?” Laurel demanded.  
          “Yes, of course it is!” exclaimed Holly. “It’s not what you think!”  
          “What is it then?”  
          Holly squirmed uncomfortably and finally spoke. “Healer Winonan wanted to observe one of my flashbacks in progress so they brought Roland in to see me…”  
          “And you froze?” asked Laurel remembering what Dillon had described.  
          “No,” Holly admitted softly.  
          Laurel waited for a further explanation but Holly remained silent. “So?” probed Laurel more firmly.  
          Holly’s body suddenly seemed to sag in defeat. “I ran!” she finally replied. “I ran and I tried to hide. And when that didn’t work, I tried to get out of the car but I couldn’t find the door,” she confessed.  
          “But you weren’t in a car, were you?” observed Laurel with concern.  
          “No,” admitted Holly, “but I thought I was. I thought I was back at the train station where I saw Roland before.”  
          “Oh, baby!” exclaimed Laurel with sympathy appalled to learn what had happened at the hospital. She enfolded Holly back within her arms and began to rock her back and forth. Holly gulped and began to cry openly.  “What on earth did he do to you?”  
          “Nothing,” sobbed Holly. “Absolutely nothing. But I was so afraid he might that I guess my mind over-reacted at the prospect. It’s O.K. now, mum, really it is,” Holly added with a more cheerful sounding note. “Roland and I had a long talk and he doesn’t scare me any more.”  
          “That’s good to know,” acknowledged Laurel and she continued to rock Holly back and forth. “Are there any other, uh, “fives?” Laurel asked now that she thought she understood the meaning of the numbers. “Ones” were inconsequential but “fives”—  
          “One, maybe two,” answered Holly softly. “But I don’t think one of them will ever happen again,” she assured Laurel.  
          “That’s good,” said Laurel wishing she actually knew what they were talking about. “And the other?”  
          “That one I’m not so sure about,” replied Holly thoughtfully. “We think it had to do with emotions but I don’t know how to make sure it doesn’t happen again…”  
          “Oh.” While still holding Holly tightly, Laurel reached out with one hand and turned back a few more pages of Holly's notebook. “What’s on the stairs?” she asked curiously noting the quantity of “stairs” entries and the number “three” inked in next to each.  
          Holly shifted uncomfortably. “That’s, um, Pettigrew,” she answered finally.  
          “Oh? What’s that?” Laurel immediately sensed this was something more serious that a “Security fly-by.”  
          “Pettigrew was the Caretaker,” Holly finally answered softly. “He rescued me from the dementors.”  
          “That’s good, right?” asked Laurel struggling to understand.  
          “I guess,” agreed Holly reluctantly. “He brought me up the stairs to the Headmaster’s office.”  
          “So you see him every day like you do the dementors?”  
          “No,” Holly answered in a voice so soft Laurel could barely hear her. Laurel waited. Holly twisted and buried her face in Laurel’s arms. “I _hear_ him!” she whispered in Laurel’s ear.  
          “You hear him?” Laurel asked in disbelief.  
          “Yes. He apparently talked while he took me up the stairs,” explained Holly. “I didn’t remember any of it at the time, but I do now—every squeaky little word!! He wasn’t very nice, either!” Holly complained.  
          “Oh baby!” murmured Laurel sympathetically trying to imagine what it would be like to hear voices every day. “Isn’t there something you can do about him?”  
          “We’ve tried ear plugs, talking, humming, singing… So far nothing works!” mourned Holly.  
          “Can’t you avoid the stairs some way?”  
          “Unfortunately, no! My dorm is on the fifth floor and most of the classes are on the first or second so I have to listen to him every day on the way back to my dorm!”  
          “But—isn’t there another way up?  
          “No,” Holly sighed. Then she added, “I really want to get rid of _Pettigrew!_ ” practically spitting out the name.  
          Laurel put the book down, wrapped both arms around Holly and hugged her tightly. “What did the Doctor say to do about him?” she inquired with concern.  
          “I didn’t ask,” Holly admitted wiping off her face, “not specifically. Winonan just said there was no confirmed treatment for PTSD and that so far, direct confrontation seems to be successful for me and to keep it up but go at my own pace. And it’s true I have managed to banish some of the flashbacks that way,” admitted Holly, “but Mum, I have confronted that voice every single day and it hasn’t done any good at all! I talked to Cousin Harry, though,” added Holly in a more hopeful voice. “He knew Pettigrew. I’m hoping some of the things he told me about the guy will help me get him out of my mind. But I won’t know until I get back.”  
          “And if it doesn’t work?” inquired Laurel. “What then?”  
          Holly shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I guess I listen to him some more…” she said bleakly.  
          “That doesn’t seem right somehow!” exclaimed Laurel. “You shouldn’t have to suffer like that.”  
          “He’ll probably go away, eventually,” said Holly. But she didn’t sound too confident. “I don’t want to talk about flashbacks any more.” Holly added.  
          “O.K.” agreed Laurel and she handed Holly her pink and white notebook. Laurel had learned enough about flashbacks for now. “What do you say we go inside and find some hot chocolate to drink?” she suggested. Holly nodded. Laurel unlocked the doors and the two got out.   
          The cold air blew against Laurel’s face. She locked the auto and as the two walked into the building, Laurel pondered Holly’s problem with the stairs. It was bad enough that her baby had flashbacks, but to have to endure an unpleasant predictable one every day… Laurel wished there was something she could do to help Holly.  
          By the time the hot chocolate arrived, Laurel’s mind had moved to other things. “What did you eat?” she asked Holly after she had taken a sip.  
          “Huh?”  
          “During those three days?” said Laurel lightly. There was no need to explain what three days Laurel meant. “What did you eat? You did eat, didn’t you?”  
          “Uh, yes…”  
          “Look, I understand you don’t want to talk about the scary stuff that happened those three days,” began Laurel, “but surely not every minute was scary… Perhaps you could tell me about the not-so-scary things—like food. What did you eat that first day?”  
          There was a moment of silence while Holly considered this. Then she said, “Cabbage soup.”  
          “Cabbage soup?”  
          “Cabbage soup and tea,” Holly answered more firmly.  
          Laurel nodded. “That’s healthy enough,” she said approvingly. There were other questions she wanted to ask and cabbage soup was a good start.  
          By the time the shopping had been completed and Holly’s hair had been cut, curled and styled, Laurel had learned quite a lot about Holly’s three days. It came out disjointedly in bits and pieces but the information helped fill out the sketchy account Harry Potter had provided earlier. Laurel was pleased with her progress certain that now Holly had begun talking, she would, with time, continue talking and reveal more and more of those fateful three days. In addition, Laurel had an idea of how to help Holly with her stairs problem…


	33. Chapter 33

          Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk in the Hogwarts’ office. A knock sounded at the door. “Open,” she said calmly. Visitors were unusual during the Holiday season, but this one was expected. An owl had arrived the previous day requesting a meeting. The door opened and Minerva looked up at the tall figure standing in the doorway. “Welcome, Mr. Potter,” she greeted warmly. “Come in and sit down.” Harry Potter stepped in. “How are you?” Minerva asked as he pulled up a chair and sat across from her.  
          “Fine,” he answered politely. “And you?” he asked returning the greeting.  
          “Fine,” replied Minerva pleasantly. “How’s Albus?” she inquired with concern.  
          “Much better,” replied Harry.  
          “That’s good to hear,” said Minerva with relief. Albus hadn’t looked too good when she last saw him.  
          “But I’m not here about Albus,” continued Harry.  
          “So I gathered,” replied Minerva calmly. The message requesting a meeting had been brief and indicated Miss Wycliff was to be the topic. Minerva waited patiently for Harry to continue.  
          “I received a message from Holly’s mother yesterday,” he began. “It’s a request, actually.”  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes. It seems Mrs. Wycliff recently learned of the difficulty Holly has had going up the stairs…”  
          “And?”  
          “Well, Mrs. Wycliff would like the school to provide an alternate way for Holly to get to her dorm and classes—one that does not require the use of the main stairway. Among other things,” continued Harry, “Mrs. Wycliff feels the stairs provide an unnecessary, unwelcome distraction that adversely affects her daughter’s mental health and possibly her academic standing at Hogwarts…”  
          “Indeed,” said Minerva thoughtfully. “What do you think?” she asked curiously. After all, Harry was supposed to be Holly’s guardian during the school year.  
          “Frankly, I think it’s a good idea,” replied Harry promptly. “We should have thought of it sooner.” Harry leaned more comfortably back in his chair and continued talking. “I knew there was something going on with the stairs, of course, both James and Albus wrote about them, but had no idea how bad it was. Holly never even mentioned stairs in her original account,” Harry added. “She isn’t one to complain, you know, so the first I heard from Holly about the stairs was after I picked her up at the station and now that I know, well…” Harry looked down reflectively. “It’s Pettigrew!” he added suddenly looking back up at Minerva.  
          Minerva drew in a swift breath. “Peter Pettigrew?” she asked in surprise. This was the first specific detail Minerva had heard of Holly’s second journey into the Tom Riddle world and the name explained much about the stairs.  
          “Yeah,” agreed Harry dryly. “I don’t know why, but Pettigrew was the Hogwarts’ Caretaker,” he informed Minerva. “He rescued Holly from the dementors and brought her up to the Headmaster’s office.”  
          “Oh,” said Minerva. Dementors too? What _had_ happened during the summer? She could guess the basics after that account Holly had given two years ago, none of it good, but to ask for further specifics was unnecessary for the performance of her duties and bad manners.  
          “According to Holly,” continued Harry, “Pettigrew spoke to her non-stop all the way there! That’s what Holly keeps on hearing when she goes up the stairs now—only up, not down,” he added as an aside. “I don’t know what he said to her,” Harry continued thoughtfully, “but from the way Holly talks it couldn’t have been very good. No person should have to listen to Pettigrew every day,” Harry concluded.  
          “No,” agreed Minerva thoughtfully. “She shouldn’t. What does Healer Winonan say?” she inquired. “Is there any chance of stopping this particular flashback?”  
          “He says these things should fade with time,” replied Harry. “But there’s no telling when, if ever. I told Holly what I know about Pettigrew in the hopes it will help her get rid of the flashback. But the Pettigrew I knew is not the one she met so I don’t know how useful the information will be.”  
          Minerva leaned back in her chair considering the problem. “Well,” she began thoughtfully, “there’s the Ravenclaw secret passage to and from the library… Holly’s Hufflepuff but I think Professor Lovegood could persuade the portrait to make an exception in Holly’s case… And there’s that passage from the kitchen to the third floor…”  
          “If I may add,” began Harry tentatively, “Albus reports that Holly actually begins to hear Pettigrew several meters outside the school entrance… Probably where the dementors got her. I believe it would be helpful to Holly if there were some other way to enter Hogwarts as well…”  
          “We could open up one of the old passages to Hogsmead,” mused Minerva. “It would mean some extra walking but considering the situation, I don’t think Holly would mind too much… Let Mrs. Wycliff know that when Holly returns we shall have a new route mapped out that she can use to go to the dorms,” Minerva told Harry confidently. It would give the staff something to do during the Holidays.  
          “Thank you,” said Harry. “I’ll do that. Uh,” he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Is there any news in the investigation?”  
          “The Room of Requirement is again open,” Minerva announced. “Professor Longbottom was able to get into the room almost immediately once the students had left. We don’t know who was using it, of course. But it was definitely in use up to that time… He and Professor Lovegood set several traps in place should the unknown person return. We can't totally prevent the use of the room, of course, as some of our students, Miss Wycliff included, have legitimate need of the room but hopefully we can keep tabs on who uses it and identify and prevent any unauthorized users...”  
          Harry nodded. “Is there any other information?” he asked hopefully.  
          “I also have a report from Holly on “The Emotional Experience of the Effects of Different Immobilizing Type Spells.” Minerva reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. “It is very interesting,” she continued as she handed the parchment to Harry. He nodded his head in thanks and unrolled the scroll. “I suspect the part you want is towards the end,” informed Minerva quietly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t contain the information you hoped to read, though,” she added. Harry’s shoulders seem to sag at the news but he said nothing while he read.  
          Minerva waited until Harry finished reading. When he looked up Minerva resumed talking. “Professor Slughorn reports he could not locate an outside vendor that sent any explosives or explosive ingredients to the school during the past six months. Nor could he find anyone in Hogsmeade who admitted to having sold such material to anyone, student or wizard, in the past three months. In addition, he conducted an in-house inventory of potion supplies and determined that several items are missing or are in inexplicitly low quantities, including those that could be used to make explosives. He does not know when they went missing except some time after the school year began. He never noticed the depletion so it’s most likely they were taken in small quantities over a period of time. That way their absence wouldn’t be as noticeable but he can’t say for sure… Madam Pomfrey has also reported some missing supplies. She noticed their absence in the course of treating injuries during the collapse.”  
          Minerva paused to take a breath and then asked gently, “What did you learn?”  
          Harry carefully rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Minerva. Then he said, “All the enemies I know of are Slytherins. While several might have been free to do this, and might take satisfaction in causing me pain, I can’t imagine any of them willing to do such a thing to other Slytherins.”  
          “No,” agreed Minerva regretfully. “Me neither. I know things still look bad for Albus,” she added, “but Professor Lovegood has an idea for one more test that might help. It can’t be conducted until the students return to school, though.”  
          “Thank you,” said Harry quietly. “I appreciate your effort.”  
          “That’s my job,” said Minerva solemnly. “Is there anything else?”  
          Harry shook his head solemnly.  
          “Then our business here has been concluded,” she said forcing her voice to sound cheerful. “But if you have a little extra time,” continued Minerva, “we have been invited to tea.”  
          “Tea?”  
          “Yes,” said Minerva. “Mrs. Figg has been wanting to ask you to tea. She was busy while school was in session and reluctant to disturb you during the holidays, but as long as you’re here, well, she has invited us both to tea. This is very important to Mrs. Figg,” continued Minerva not giving Harry a chance to refuse. “I gather she has a photo she wishes to show you. A “still.”  
          “Which cat?” asked Harry promptly.  
          “You would have to ask her,” replied Minerva. “But, knowing what I know now, I believe it has something to do with Holly’s, ah, summer excursion.”  
          “Well,” said Harry, “then I guess it would be a good idea to go to tea.”  
          “Good. I’ll let her know we’re coming,” Minerva said. She scrawled a quick note on a piece of parchment and affixed the note to her owl. Then she sent the owl flying to Mrs. Figg. When she had finished, Minerva pushed back her chair and stood. “Shall we go?”  
          Harry nodded and stood as well. He waited until Minerva reached his side and then the two of them walked to the door. “If you don’t mind my asking,” began Minerva tentatively as Harry held the door open for her, “which part of that rather nasty account Rita wrote up on you is actually true?”  
           “Um, the part where she says she interviewed me,” replied Harry ruefully as she stepped through the door.  
           “That’s what I thought.” Minerva waited for Harry to close the door behind them and then the two started down the stairs...

********************

          “They’re here!” exclaimed Holly excitedly. She leaped out of her seat and ran to the door. Dillon Wycliff got up and joined his family as they went outside to greet his parents. He used to love it when his parents visited. Now he dreaded it—he was always afraid they’d find out something he didn’t want them to know… Holly, Laurel and Vernon had been good about not mentioning Cousin Harry or Hogwarts, but Dillon feared some day someone would slip-up.  
          “You look more beautiful than ever!” he heard his mum tell Holly. Holly seemed to sparkle at the compliment.  
          “Guess what! I’m taking Tang Soo Do!” Holly told her Grandmum excitedly.  
          “And what is that?”  
          “It’s a lot like Karate,” chimed in Vernon, “and I’m taking it too!”  
          “Karate!” exclaimed Dillon’s mum. “You certainly don’t need to learn that foreign stuff!” she told Vernon. “You look great the way you are. And it’s definitely no sport for a young lady!” she added disapprovingly to Holly.  
          “Oh, Grandmum,” sighed Holly rolling her eyes upwards. “You’re so old-fashioned! It’s good exercise. Besides, how else am I to defend myself?”  
 _“How else indeed?”_ thought Dillon glumly knowing that all those wizard tricks apparently hadn’t done much to help Holly during the summer. That’s why she needed the Karate stuff.  
          “You find yourself a strong handsome husband and let him defend you!” Dillon heard his mum say firmly and she looked fondly over the roof of the auto at his dad who was just getting out.  
          “Granddad?” questioned Holly. “Are you all right?” Dillon turned and looked at his dad as he walked away from the auto. He looked fine to him.  
          “I’m fine, Holly,” Dillon’s dad said as he moved forward. He seemed to be favoring one leg over the other. “I’m just a bit stiff from the drive…”  
          “Hi, granddad,” greeted Vernon.  
          “Hello, yourself!” Dillon’s dad greeted warmly. “How about helping your Granddad with the luggage?”  
          “Sure,” replied Vernon and he waited until his granddad opened the boot. Then Vernon easily lifted out two huge bags from within.  
          “Look at those muscles on you!” admired Dillon’s dad. “Have you been working out?”  
          “Yes, sir,” admitted Vernon with pride. “You should see the weight lifting set dad got me!”  
          “Let me help you,” said Holly worriedly. She moved forward and placed an arm under her Granddad’s hand.  
          “Thank you, dear,” Dillon’s dad told her, “but it’s not necessary. Really.” Even so, Dillon noted his dad didn't push the hand away and leaned rather heavily on Holly as they followed his mum and Laurel into the house.  
          Dillon moved to the auto and lifted out the three remaining bags in the boot. They were heavy, of course. His mum and dad never traveled light. Dillon set the bags on the ground and closed the boot. Then he balanced one bag on top of the other and lifted the three together. Staggering a bit, Dillon started towards the house.  
          “Dad?”  
          Dillon looked up and saw Holly’s concerned face in front of him. “Yes, sweetheart?” he asked while not stopping.  
          “Something’s wrong with granddad,” she said bluntly.  
          “Dad?” asked Dillon. “No, of course not,” he assured her. “You heard him, he’s just stiff from the drive…”  
          “No,” argued Holly. “It’s not that! It’s more!” She stood directly in front of Dillon blocking the way, so Dillon changed his direction to walk around her. “I know what stiff muscles feel like and it’s not that, not that at all,” Holly added following.  
          “I hope you’re not calling your granddad a liar!” Dillon told her sternly. “Your granddad should know better than you how he feels—” Dillon stopped. He suddenly remembered Holly was supposed to be good at feeling things. Dillon always tried to forget that part of Holly and she was good at letting him pretend she was normal. That Holly would insist on reminding him now changed the situation. Dillon put the bags down and rested. “What do you mean?” he asked.  
          “Granddad’s legs _are_ stiff,” began Holly softly, “but it’s more than that. He’s weak, real weak—in his arms and legs—not tired, but weak. He’s got a pounding headache and his throat hurt when he spoke. And he’s having trouble breathing, too. When granddad took off his sunglasses inside his eyes hurt,” she added. “And I think he’s feeling dizzy and nauseous—at least I do when I’m around him.”  
          “So what is it?” Dillon asked with concern.  
          “I don’t know,” exclaimed Holly in frustration. “I’m no doctor! I just know how granddad usually feels, and this is wrong, all wrong. I think,” she added hesitantly, “I think you should take him to see a doctor _now!_ Maybe even the hospital!”  
          Dillon picked up the bags again while he considered Holly’s words. Those symptoms didn’t sound at all like the usual stiffness from driving. “Thank you,” he told her quietly. “I’ll take care of it.” And Dillon headed back into the house. Holly reached out and grabbed one of the bags to help and opened the door for him. The two walked into the house and headed towards the spare room.  
          When Dillon returned to the living room, he studied his father seated in the heavy-duty easy chair purchased especially for him. He was overweight, but that was normal for dad. His eyes were closed as one would when resting. Was it more than that? He looked rather pale, but that could have been the result of an over active imagination now that Holly had said something. Was whatever she felt really serious? Wouldn’t dad had said something if it was more than driving stiffness? Dillon knew his parents excelled at lying and hiding things—a fact brought home by his dealings with Cousin Harry. Would they lie about themselves too?  
          “Have you seen the new auto Laurel bought me, dad?” Dillon suddenly asked forcing his voice to sound casual.  
          His dad opened his eyes, and squinted as he looked towards Dillon. “You got a new auto?” he asked with interest.  
          “Yes,” said Dillon with more confidence. “It’s a real beaut! And I’d like to take you for a spin—just you,” he added mysteriously. “Without the women… Now!” Dillon glanced at suggestively Laurel and his mum hinting that he and dad had some serious holiday business to discuss.  
          “Uh, O.K.,” Dillon’s dad replied reluctantly pushing himself out of the chair. Holly hurried to help. “Thank you,” he told Holly absently. “Perhaps the fresh air might do me some good…”  
          With Holly’s help Dillon’s dad got into the auto. She opened the garage door while Dillon got in. Dillon started the auto, shifted gears and carefully eased the car out of the driveway…

********************

          Laurel Wycliff worked in the kitchen preparing dinner. “Mum,” Mrs. Violet Wycliff sat at the table sipping tea and chattering happily away at all the latest news and gossip. Laurel only half listened to her. Dillon had taken off rather abruptly with his dad. Laurel couldn’t imagine what business the two had together and it bothered her. She knew secrets were a part of the holiday but still…  
          Holly sat quietly in a kitchen corner listening to Violet talk. That was unusual for Holly. Normally she departed for her room or the tube once formal greetings were completed. Perhaps Holly had matured to the point she liked listening to adults talk but Laurel doubted it—Holly sat too stiffly in her chair, as if she were waiting for something…  
          The telephone rang. Laurel picked it up. “Hello?” she said into the receiver and listened in shock to the words on the other end. “Yes, I’ll tell everyone,” she told the person at the other end. “Stay as long as you need. Thank you for calling.” Laurel hung up the phone and turned to Violet. “That was Dillon,” she said trying to keep her voice steady and calm. “He says they’re at the hospital.”  
          ”What?!” exploded Violet with distress as her teacup clattered noisily back onto the saucer. “What happened? Are they all right?”  
          “They’re fine,” assured Laurel. “They think Vincent has a case of botulism,” Laurel began, “and they want him to stay there until he’s better. It’s too late for us to visit him tonight but Dillon plans to stay with him until visiting hours are over before coming home.”  
          “Oh, yes, yes of course,” agreed Violet.  
          “What’s botulism?” asked Holly. Her wide green eyes stared intently at Laurel.  
          “It’s a form of food poisoning. Apparently your granddad ate something that was contaminated…”  
          “That’s ridiculous!” scoffed Violet. “He’s a meat and potato man! Botulism comes from poorly prepared vegetables and salads. I doubt he’s even had them the last few days…”  
          “Well, apparently something didn’t agree with him,” countered Laurel, “because he’s pretty sick now…”

********************

          Dillon returned home well after dinner. He reported that his father was doing fine but they wanted to keep him in the hospital for a while. Dillon whispered more of the details to Laurel much later, after Violet had retired for bed. “It was Holly that made me do it,” he began confirming Laurel’s suspicion that Holly was in the kitchen doing more than listening in to adult conversation. “She said she thought he was sick. I asked dad how he felt in the auto, but he denied it flat out. I even asked him about the symptoms Holly reported and he denied them too. I don’t know why I kept on driving towards the hospital, but I did. When we got to the hospital dad ordered me— _ordered_ me to turn back. I almost did it, too” he confessed. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to put the auto in gear and turn around. And dad, he was so mad that he said if I wouldn’t take him back he was going to _walk_ back all by himself! And he opened the door, got out, and fell! That leg he was favoring just gave away!”  
          “No!” whispered Laurel horrified.  
          “Well, the people inside,” continued Dillon, “they saw him fall and came running out with a wheel chair! They insisted dad come inside—insurance purposes, you know. At first they thought it might just be gout, but then I started adding those other symptoms, the ones Holly mentioned—dad didn’t deny them this time, and he admitted to having blurry vision, too! So they took a closer look… Anyway, it turns out three other people had been hospitalized after eating at the same restaurant dad and mum went to last night… So they’re pretty certain it’s food poisoning. Dad’s really sick!” Dillon continued worriedly. “I know he’s going to be O.K., now, but if I hadn’t gotten him to the hospital when I did… Mum thinks I’m really smart for bringing him in,” Dillon added guiltily. “But I can’t take the credit for this!” he continued distressed. “It was all because of Holly! I’ve got to tell mum the truth!”  
          “Tomorrow,” whispered Laurel soothingly. “Your mum’s asleep now and you need your rest, too.”  
          The whole family trooped to the hospital the next morning. “Mr. Wycliff is doing fine,” the doctors told him. Vincent had always been so strong and confident, but he looked frail and helpless beneath the hospital sheets. If it hadn’t been for Holly…  
          All the way home Violet gushed about how Dillon’s quick thinking had saved Vincent. “It was Holly!” Dillon suddenly blurted out in the auto while he drove. Total silence followed his words.  
          “But of course it was,” replied Violet approvingly. “I heard her ask if Vincent was O.K. and that set you to thinking… You are so modest, Dillon!”  
          “No!” argued Dillon. “It was Holly that thought he was sick!”  
          Holly leaned forward from the back seat and wrapped her arms around Dillon’s neck. “I may have thought he looked sick,” she began softly, “but it was you that thought enough to take him to the hospital. Thank you for saving Granddad!” And Holly kissed him on the cheek. After that, Dillon no longer tried to correct Violet keeping his thoughts to himself every time his mum praised him.  
          Somehow the holiday season seemed not so merry with Vincent in the hospital. Meals weren’t quite as satisfying knowing that Vincent had to make do with hospital fare. Even though a tree was dutifully put up and trimmed, the gifts were all opened with dad at the hospital. When they got home, Dillon told Laurel he had decided to ask mum to stay with the family longer…  
          “For how long?” asked Laurel worriedly.  
          “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “Until dad gets better I suppose or they decide to move him someplace closer to their home. If mum stays here she can easily visit dad every day. I don’t want mum to go home alone to an empty house.”  
          “Of course not,” agreed Laurel. “But what about, uh, you-know-who?”  
          It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to know whom she meant. “He can’t come to the house!” said Dillon in sudden panic at the thought of mum seeing Cousin Harry. “Tell him Holly and I will meet him somewhere else—anywhere away from here!”  
          Laurel nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” she told him.  
          “Thanks,” said Dillon with obvious relief no doubt glad he didn’t have to deal with all that _wizard_ stuff himself.

********************

           “Merry Christmas!” Holly said cheerfully to Vernon when they had finished their Tang Soo Do exercises one day. She held out a plain envelope with his name clearly written on the front.  
          “What is it?” Vernon asked curiously as he put on a heavy robe over his dobahk. Mum made both Holly and Vernon put robes on over their clothes as soon as they finished practicing as it was cold in the garage and she didn’t want them to get chilled. Vernon took the envelope from Holly. It looked to be a simple envelope from dad’s business supplies. Christmas had been a few days earlier. Why hadn’t Holly given the envelope to him then?  
          “It’s something I made for you at school,” she told him shyly.  
          “Oh.” That explained a lot. With Grandmum still in the house, Holly wouldn’t want to do or say anything in front of her that brought attention to her school. Vernon undid the flap. Looking inside the envelope he saw a small dark blue rectangular card. Vernon withdrew the card. It looked like a simple business card with his name in yellow cursive letters neatly written upon it. There was an elaborate calligraphy style border on the edge of the card that included Celtic knots and twining vines.  
          “Thanks,” said Vernon while staring at the border. The vines seemed to twist and move the more he looked at it. “Uh, what is it?” he asked knowing that the card had to be more than it seemed or Holly would have given it to him on Christmas day.  
          “It’s a Personal Protective Ward,” Holly told him proudly.  
          “Oh.” As if that explained anything. Vernon had no idea what a Personal Protective Ward was…  
          “It’s supposed to protect you from minor jinxes, hexes, and compulsive spells,” Holly added explaining.  
          “Oh.”  
          “I made it in Charms. The other students made their wards into charms, amulets and pendants,” she continued. “But I didn’t think you’d go for wearing bracelets or necklaces. So I made it look like a name card.  
          “Oh. That was thoughtful,” said Vernon absently while wondering what he’d do with a name card.  
          “I got extra house points on it for originally,” Holly informed him proudly. “I was the only person to make it look like a Muggle business card.”  
          “Oh.”  
          “’Course the Slytherins thought it was a pretty stupid idea because what Muggle would walk around carrying a business card in his hand all day—the ward works through physical contact, you see,” Holly explained. “But I reminded them that there doesn’t have to be constant contact for a personal ward to work. You’ve just got to touch it every so often to keep it activated. I figure all you have to do is put the card in your wallet with your money. If you touch the card every time you use some money it should be enough to keep it working. You _will_ put it in your wallet, won’t you?” Holly asked worriedly.  
          “Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so,” agreed Vernon automatically.  
          “Good!” said Holly brightening visibly. “I mean it’s not like I expect you to need a Personal Ward at Smeltings or anything, but, well, why bother to make a ward if it doesn’t get used?”  
          “I guess that’s true,” agreed Vernon, “but why didn’t you just make one for yourself?”  
          “They work better if you make them for someone else,” replied Holly looking down, “someone you care about,” she added mumbling. “You’re uh, well, my brother and I wouldn’t want anything to ever happen to you….”  
          “Oh, uh, thanks,” replied Vernon uncomfortably; he wasn’t one for showing or receiving affection. Then he suddenly realized Holly must still felt guilty about what happened during the summer. “It wasn’t your fault,” he assured Holly.  
          “Yeah,” she replied not sounding convinced.  
          “Cousin Harry said that even if I known had about it earlier I might not have been able to resist touching the plaque,” Vernon added. “He said its pull would have been really powerful.” It felt weird trying to comfort Holly. She always seemed so together after she started going to that school. Even now. If he hadn’t been listening in when Cousin Harry talked about “flashbacks” Vernon would have never known anything was wrong with Holly.  
          “I know,” sighed Holly, “but I still should have said something, should have tried…”  
          “That’s all over now,” Vernon told her firmly. “Past history, don’t even think about it.” Holly nodded with a small smile. Vernon looked down at the card with its squiggly lines thoughtfully. “Thanks for thinking of me,” he said holding up the card and turning it about so it shined in the light.  
          “Holly, Vernon!” came mum’s voice from the kitchen. “Dinner!”  
          “Coming!” shouted Vernon in response. He slipped the card into a pocket in his robe and turned off the portable heater. Then he and Holly headed to their respective bedrooms to change for dinner.  
          Once in his room, Vernon looked at the card thoughtfully. He thought about just leaving it in his desk somewhere but decided against that guessing dad wouldn’t like anything “magic” around the house. He considered tossing it, but well, the card _was_ pretty and it was clear Holly had put a lot of effort into it. Besides, Vernon _had_ promised Holly so he fished out his wallet, slipped the card into the bill section and promptly forgot about it.

********************

          Laurel Wycliff worked in the kitchen finishing a pot of beef stew. Dillon was expected home any time for dinner. Holly and Vernon were in the garage practicing karate. When she last looked Violet Wycliff was in the living room watching the tube. It hadn’t been all bad having an extra visitor around the house. Violet usually spent most of each day in the hospital with Vincent returning to spend dinner with the family. Today, however, Violet had returned early—Vincent had endured a tiring morning with doctors and tests and wanted to rest during the afternoon. On those days when Violet returned early, she would usually watch the tube or just putter around the house doing, whatever—dusting, most likely. But sometimes she helped with the laundry.  
          Laurel heard the front door open signaling Dillon’s return. “Hello, dear,” he said coming into the kitchen to greet her. “How is everything?” he asked giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.  
          “Fine,” replied Laurel as she stirred the contents of her pot.  
          “Where’s mum?” he asked curiously.  
          “Isn’t she watching the tube?”  
          “No.”  
          “Then I guess she’s around somewhere,” replied Laurel without concern. Laurel had Holly’s gift, the healthstone pendant and the special notebook Harry Potter had given her both safely hidden in her purse and away from prying eyes. Outside of Holly’s castle snow-globe of the school (which had no names written on it), nothing in the house bore any connection to the Potters or Hogwarts.  
          In addition, Holly’s cat was staying over at the neighbor’s house so the family wouldn’t have to explain the presence of a pet in the house. The neighbor, Mrs. Rogers, was only too glad to help. She was under the impression Mrs. Violet Wycliff was subject to allergies and, mindful of her grandmum’s health, Holly wanted to keep the cat out of the house during a prolonged visit. Mrs. Rogers had a beautiful piano Holly liked to practice on. Holly’s cat made one more excuse for Holly to visit. The holidays had to be a sad time for Mrs. Rogers after her own mum’s death; Laurel was certain Holly’s presence helped brighten the lady’s days considerably.  
 ** _“DILLON!”_** screeched Violet suddenly. Laurel had never heard such a sound out of her before.  
          “Coming, mum!” said Dillon and he hurriedly left the kitchen. Laurel hastily wiped her hands on her apron and followed.  
          Violet was standing in their bedroom holding a picture in a frame. Her hands shook and her expression was horrible to see. **“Where did you get this-this** ** _thing_** **?** **”** she demanded spitting every word. As Laurel drew near, she recognized the photo in Violet’s hand as the one of Holly that Dillon kept in his drawer. It was a professional photo taken while her hair was long; Holly had given it to Dillon as a present one year.  
          “What?” asked Dillon confused.  
 **“How can you keep a picture of this— _FREAK **—**_ in your house?” **demanded Violet.  
 **“How dare you call my daughter a _freak!_ ”** exploded Dillon in a rage of his own. “ **OUT! NOW!** ” he added pointing to the door. “ **AND DON’T EVER RETURN!** ”  
          “There must be a misunderstanding,” interjected Laurel hastily standing between the two people before they could say anything else. Violet was clearly stunned at Dillon’s response and Laurel took advantage of the momentary silence to continue. “I don’t know who you think this is,” she added, “but you must be wrong. This is a photo of your _granddaughter_ , Holly,” Laurel informed Violet, “and I _know_ you would never say such things about her.”  
          “Holly?” said Violet in disbelief.  
          “Yes, Holly,” replied Laurel firmly. “She had it taken two years ago before she cut her hair. Look—she even signed it,” added Laurel calling attention to Holly’s signature on the bottom.  
          Violet stared closely at the message and signature, then at the photo itself. “But she looks so much like—”  
          “Like who?” asked Laurel though she knew full well who it must be. Holly had once said Violet didn’t like her sister but Laurel had no idea how much.  
          “HOLLY!” Violet suddenly called out. “Come here!”  
          Vernon popped immediately into the doorway; Holly’s head and green eyes peeped fearfully out from behind. They were both wearing their karate clothes and had obviously come running in at the first sounds of shouting.  
          “Is this your photo?” Violet asked aggressively while waving the portrait in front of her.  
          “Y-yes, ma’am,” replied Holly in a quivery voice.  
          “Come here!” Violet ordered. But Holly didn’t move clearly afraid.  
          “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, baby,” said Dillon protectively, his voice more under control.  
          “You’re scaring her!” added Laurel.  
          “Come here!” Violet demanded again in a bit softer tone. “I won’t hurt you!” she added.  
          Holly cautiously took a step forward and then another until she stood next to Vernon.  
          “Look at me!” ordered Violet. And Holly looked, her green eyes fearfully meeting Violet’s eyes. Violet looked from Holly to the photo and then back to Holly again. She did this several times before speaking. “The resemblance is uncanny,” she said finally. “I don’t know why I never saw it before…”  
          “Resemblance to whom?” asked Dillon pretending he had no idea whom Violet was talking about.  
          “To L—”began Violet, “Never mind,” she ended. “What school did you say you go to?” Violet asked Holly suddenly.  
          “Uh…”  
          “She goes to George’s—uh, St. George’s Academy,” filled in Laurel thinking swiftly. “Uh, for Girls,” she finished. That sounded like a respectable name. They had been so busy with other matters that Dillon had never gotten around to coming up with a new name for Hogwarts. While Laurel had never originally agreed to the idea of faking the name of Holly’s school, she suddenly decided that mentioning the name “Hogwarts,” could be detrimental indeed. Dillon’s parents might eventually get over the knowledge that Holly attended _that school_ and everything it meant, especially as her skills had saved Vincent, but now was not the time to tell them. Vincent was already in the hospital and Violet had expressed such loathing for a mere image in a photo that Laurel was certain her feelings for Harry Potter and the school must be a hundred times worse…  
           “They’ve taught Holly to play the piano there,” added Vernon suddenly. “You should hear her; she’s pretty good.” Laurel’s heart warmed at Vernon’s effort to support Holly. He must know how his grandparents felt about the Potters though Laurel had never said anything to him.  
          “And, uh, they don’t stand for vegetarians there either so Holly eats meat now,” contributed Dillon. Laurel knew Dillon had initially told his parents he was removing Holly from Hillary’s (Hogwarts’ original fake name) because Holly had become a vegetarian. The parents had agreed that any place that would promote such “crackpot” values was no place for their darling granddaughter.  
          “That’s good,” said Violet absently while still staring at Holly. “Have any strange things happened around you!” she asked abruptly.  
          “Like what?” asked Holly innocently.  
          “Like animals getting out of their cages, windows vanishing, or letters flying down the chimney…”  
          “No, Grandmum, of course not!” answered Holly with a laugh. “That’s silly!”  
          “Definitely not!” confirmed Vernon stoutly. “I’d know for sure if something like that ever happened around here.” And Laurel’s heart warmed again at Vernon’s support but she wondered if the children could have kept such straight faces had Violet asked about pendants turning black, people climbing inside tree trunks, or a certain someone who could apparently appear at a moment’s notice… Could any of them have kept straight faces?  
          “Grandmum?” said Holly in a quavering voice. “Do you still _love_ me?”  
          “What?” she asked in surprise, “Of course I do,” and she held out her arms in a welcoming fashion. Holly moved forward and hugged Violet letting, herself be hugged in return.  
          “But those horrible things you said,” began Holly.  
          “Oh, no, dear, they weren’t about you—never you! It’s just that this photo took me by surprise… I had no idea that you looked so—I’m sorry Dillon,” Violet suddenly apologized looking from Holly to her son. “I never meant to say such things, especially not about your daughter. I love Holly, I do! I just didn’t realize that was Holly in the photo. When I saw that photo, I guess I had a momentary, ah, _flashback_ of someone else!”  
          Laurel winced inwardly at Violet’s choice of words.  
          “I’m sorry too, mum,” said Dillon moving forward and crushing both Violet and Holly in his arms. “It’s just I love my family so that I can’t bear to have anyone say anything against them—not even you.”  
          “Of course,” agreed Violet soothingly. “That’s how it’s supposed to be. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Am I forgiven?”  
          “Of course!” assured Dillon warmly. “You’re my mum and I love you!”  
          Laurel breathed a silent sigh of relief. Crisis averted. She moved forward and gently slipped the offending photo from Violet’s hand. Then Laurel quietly stepped out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. She had a dinner to finish and a photo to hide.

********************

          The rest of the holiday season with her family passed relatively quiet and calm. Granddad was doing well and projected to be released from the hospital in a week, two at the most. The enforced stay limited granddad’s food intake, which caused him to loose weight (making the doctors very happy) and reduced the pain in his leg that the doctors called gout. Grandmum never again mentioned the photo and returned to treating Holly with her usual love and affection. Of course, no one was foolish enough to bring up the subject of the photo or ask the reasons why she disliked it so.  
           After a heavy snowstorm, Holly and Vernon were out industriously clearing the sidewalks for the neighbors. They got lots of hot chocolate and cookies that way and it was an excuse to check up on and renew acquaintances with the people they had met the previous year. Grandmum was very proud of her two grandchildren and the way the neighborhood seemed to shower them with affection.  
           The worst part was when it came time for Holly to return to school. At the last minute, grandmum decided to come along. Even though mum had explained that the school was in a remote part of southern Wales and that dad would only be taking Holly to a St. George’s Academy pick-up point, grandmum decided she wanted to see her “favorite” grandchild off.  
          “Vincent could go without a visit from me one day,” she informed them. Nothing dad said or did changed her mind. Unable to reveal the real reason dad didn’t want her company dad had no choice but to take grandmum along.  
          Holly heard mum whisper “Don’t worry,” in dad’s ear when she hugged him before they left but dad worried anyway. Holly understood why. They were driving to Bristol to meet Cousin Harry.  
          Holly could feel the fear and apprehension in Dad as they drove all the way to the Bristol station. They both knew that the moment grandmum set eyes on Cousin Harry. She would guess there was no St. George’s Academy and would know the real name of the school Holly attended. Holly’s secret would be revealed and her grandparents would never again treat her or the family the same.  
          Meanwhile, grandmum happily chattered non-stop as dad drove remembering nostalgically her own school days and that of dad’s glory years at Smeltings. She never noticed dad’s gloom and uncharacteristic silence.  
          But Cousin Harry wasn’t standing at the curb near the Bristol station. That was rather unusual as he had always been punctual to a fault. Confused, dad drove around to the parking area. Grandmum immediately spotted and pointed to a sleek sky-blue limousine waiting in the parking lot. The name of “St. George’s Academy for Girls” was emblazoned on the door along with the picture of armored figure with a sword confronting a fierce fire-breathing dragon. Dad’s tense apprehensive fear immediately turned to overwhelming relief. Holly felt a sudden wave of relief as well. She realized that mum must have used that special book of hers to contact Cousin Harry. No doubt Cousin Harry was just as “eager” to see grandmum as she was to see him, had she known. It was a reunion no one wanted.  
          Dad parked his auto and tried to act nonchalant while Grandmum commented favorably on the obvious elegance and good taste of the Academy. She praised the professional appearance of the chauffeur in the black and gold uniform who stood waiting at the limo door while the three got out.  
          While dad went to the boot to get Holly’s bag the chauffeur walked up their auto. Holly immediately recognized the chauffeur as Stan Shunpike and wondered if Rupert was handling the taxi business for the day. Stan’s greeting was polite and very formal but his eyes twinkled merrily while he tipped his hat courteously to Holly and grandmum. Grandmum was plainly flattered by his attention. Holly followed Stan’s lead and pretended to not know him.  
          “Excuse me,” Stan politely said after a moment and he took Holly’s bag from dad. Then he returned to the limo and promptly stowed it into its boot. Afterwards, Stan stood patiently by the limo door while Holly said her final “good-byes” to grandmum and dad.  
          “You be careful at _that school!_ ” whispered dad in Holly’s ear as he hugged her.  
          “I will,” she replied. “And you take care of granddad.”  
          “I will,” he assured her. “Thank you!” dad added gravely and gave Holly a final hug and kiss.


	34. Chapter 34

          “All Third Years report to the annex immediately,” shouted Professor Hagrid when dinner had nearly ended. Holly and her friends looked at each other in surprise and confusion.  
          “What do you suppose it’s all about?” asked Mark curiously. They had never before done anything but eat dinner and relax in the dorms afterwards on the first day back from the holidays.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Becky, “but I suppose we ought to go to the annex to find out.” She stood up from the table.  
          “What’s this all about?” Susan asked Prefect Ben while she scooped up her wolf spider.  
          Ben frowned. He reached out and plucked the dung beetle from an empty plate. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly as he handed beetle to Susan. She placed it in its box and put the box in her pocket. “There was nothing about it mentioned in our Prefect meeting. I hope whatever it is won’t take too long,” he added. “You should all get a good night’s rest before class tomorrow.”  
          Filled with curiosity, the Third Year Hufflepuffs left their table and started towards the annex.

 *********************

          Holly crowded in with the rest of the students in the annex. Several professors were there also, along with Headmistress McGonagall, indicating the importance of the gathering. Suddenly the emotions of mild curiosity surrounding Holly changed to intense curiosity, suspicion and loathing. Blocking immediately, Holly turned to see the cause. Albus Potter, flanked by Rose and Taylor, had stepped into the room.  
          The Potter family had returned to Hogwarts by Portkey. Though no longer officially confined to the dorms, Albus had chosen to eat his dinner there. This was the first time he had appeared in public since the collapse. Albus looked infinitely better than the last time Holly had seen him. His head was held high, and there was life in his eyes again. Unfortunately, the charges against him had not been dropped and it was plain the Slytherins still had intense animosity against him.  
          “What do you plan to destroy next?” called out Shirley Ogg derisively. Shirley had suffered several crushed bones and a skull fracture as result of the collapse.  
          Albus flushed but before he could reply, the Headmistress’ stern voice rang out. “Don’t answer that, Mr. Potter,” she commanded sharply. “We are not here to discuss personal questions, Miss Ogg,” she continued. “Any more outbursts will result in a loss of House points!” After that Slytherin students simmered quietly and pointedly kept their distance from Albus. Their emotions were anything but peaceful and seemed to dominate the room. Holly now understood why all the Professors were there; the Slytherins would never dare try anything in their presence.  
          “There has been concern expressed over the academic progress of the students at Hogwarts,” began Professor Lovegood in her serene voice while ignoring the tension in the room. Holly felt a stab of disappointment. This meeting wasn’t about Albus or the results of the investigation. She had been hoping they had somehow managed to clear Albus’ name. How could Albus hope to attend class with such a cloud hanging over him?  
          “To address this concern,” continued Professor Lovegood while peering at them through her oversized rhinestone glasses with a bright pink frame, “the third year class has been selected to provide the Governors baseline information upon which to use for further decisions concerning Hogwarts, its staffing and curriculum. You will be tested on your knowledge of all subjects third year students are expected to have learned.” The magenta robe Professor Lovegood wore was embroidered with gold fish that seemed to swim back and forth as she spoke. “In addition, you will be tested tonight before you have a chance to bone up on the subjects.” Magenta colored moths fluttered their wings gently as they rested upon the Professor’s head, their tiny legs held her blonde hair out her face.  
          “But I’m tired,” complained Mickey.  
          “I know,” replied the professor calmly. “Unfortunately, one of the proposals to improve student performance at Hogwarts is to shorten holidays and extend class sessions into the summer.” There was a rumble of discontent at this. They all loved their holidays. Professor Lovegood held up a hand for silence. When the room was again quiet she continued. “Accordingly, the extent of information you retain after the holidays is also of importance.” She paused to let this sink in and then resumed talking.  
          “Allegations have also been made against the professors claiming they have, either by word or actions, assisted various students with their exams in the past. Accordingly, no talking of any sort will be permitted in the exam room—not to each other or to the professors.”  
          “Not even for questions?” piped up Leila Pilkington.  
          “Not even for questions,” replied Professor Lovegood calmly. “If you have questions during the exam, you must deal with them as best you can _on your own_. There must be absolute silence. Students are expected to remain silent and keep their eyes on their own papers at all times. Any who choose to break these rules can expect immediate loss of House points in addition to detention. And in case you’re interested,” the professor added with a toss of her magenta colored fish-shaped cork earrings, “I believe Professor Hagrid has several barrels of bloodworms and flobber worms that need to be cleaned, fed, sorted, counted and boxed. There is also a rather large pile of roc dung that needs to be bagged and hauled to the greenhouse…” The whole group groaned involuntarily at the prospect of bagging roc poop for detention. They all knew the height and odor of the poop mound still at the base of the tree.  
          “And if it should become necessary to add to this list, no doubt Professor Slughorn can come up with some equally time consuming and necessary tasks for detention.” Professor Slughorn nodded in agreement while looking sternly at the students. He had recovered from his injuries and had been watching the group like a hawk since they had entered the annex. Holly saw no kindness in his grim features.  
          “To further discourage talking and/or cheating, you have all been given assigned seats,” continued Professor Lovegood.  
          “What!” exclaimed several students in surprise. No one had ever assigned seats at Hogwarts before.  
          “I’m not sitting next to _Potter!_ ” exploded Anthony.  
          Several other Slytherins chorused “yeah!” in agreement.  
          “Five points from Slytherin,” said Professor Lovegood promptly. “And you shall sit where you are assigned, Mr. Richards. Refusal to do so will guarantee detention and loss of more House points.”  
          “And if I refuse to take this … exam?” challenged Scorpius Malfoy, his voice filled with disdain.  
          “Then you can explain the reasons for your refusal to your father when he comes to take you home—as in suspension or expulsion from Hogwarts!” Professor Lovegood said without hesitation. “I repeat this is a very important exam and not the time or place for personal animosities! Is that clear?”  
          “You wait until my father hears about this!” Scorpius muttered darkly.  
          “Feel free to send him an owl tomorrow,” replied Professor Lovegood serenely. “Would anyone like to remain here and not take this exam?” she asked challenging the students. She studied the group one student at a time through her oversized glasses almost daring them to refuse. No one spoke and each shifted uncomfortably under her intense scrutiny.  
          Considering the matter closed, the Professor resumed speaking. “Each seat will have the student name above it with the corresponding student exam and quill placed on the desk,” she informed them. “Seat-names and locations may not be traded or exchanged. You are expected to enter the room, find your seat, sit down and begin working. I repeat; there shall be no talking. Are there any questions?” She paused and shifted her position slightly making the fish seem to swirl around her.  
          When no one spoke, the Professor added in a kinder voice, “While it is important to us that you take this exam, it is equally important that you do your best on it. Accordingly, the group with the highest average score will receive 50 House points.” There was a murmur of interest in this, mostly from the Ravenclaw students. “The next highest average will be awarded forty House points and thirty points will be awarded to the House average that places third.”  
          “And last?” asked Becky worriedly.  
          “Last place will not receive any additional House points,” replied the Professor softly peering down at Becky through her oversized glasses. A magenta moth fluttered off her hair and landed lightly on the pink rim. “Nor will you loose any points as you would by refusing to take the exam...” Professor Lovegood readjusted her glasses. “Are there any other questions?” she asked calmly. The students looked at each other but didn’t speak.  
          “Good. You shall be escorted to the exam room in two groups. Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Longbottom will escort the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors. After ten minutes, Professor Slughorn and myself will lead the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, to the room. As it is a rather lengthy exam I suggest you not wait until everyone arrives. Instead, find your seat and begin work promptly. The sooner you finish the sooner you may leave and return to your own dorm for the night...

********************

          Professor Luna Lovegood silently led the students down to the dungeon to the room selected for the exam. Professor Slughorn followed. He had suggested this room. After a pause designed to show hesitation, Luna had agreed. Location was of minor importance to Luna. But the dungeon was Slytherin turf and no doubt he felt more comfortable there. That was fine with Luna. The results would be the same here as elsewhere … she hoped.  
          The exam room door was closed. Luna paused outside. “Remember,” she told them in a whisper, “no disruption of any kind inside. If you persist in making disruptions then you will be asked to leave the room and the zero you earn on your exam will be averaged in with the other scores of your House. Is that clear?” The students nodded their heads solemnly. “Good. Now, Slytherins first,” she told them in a whisper and waited until the Slytherin students lined up near the door. Luna quietly opened the door.  
          The students crowded around her and silently peered inside. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students all sat at the front of the room. They were already hard at work. A few glanced around when the door opened but then quickly returned their attention to the very thick pile of papers in front of them. “An exam is already on each desk,” she reminded them. “Find your seat and begin working immediately,” Luna instructed and then stepped back to let the Slytherins enter.  
          Green Weasley Alphabet Smoke spelled out the names of students and hovered in the air over the empty desks. The Slytherins silently walked to their seats. The smoke above the desks dissipated as each student sat. When all the Slytherins had seated and begun working, Luna let the Hufflepuffs in. They silently sat alternatively between the Slytherin students. Holly Wycliff’s chair was in the back between Anthony Richards and Scorpius Malfoy. Shirley Ogg sat in front of her.  
          Without a word the Hufflepuffs picked up their quills and began to write. While they worked, Headmistress McGonagall moved silently over to Professor Slughorn. Luna saw her slip a small scroll into his hand before quietly leaving the room through the still opened door. She gave one last glance and an encouraging nod to Luna and then shut the door behind her. Professor Slughorn, Neville and Luna remained in the room to supervise.  
          Professor Slughorn strode purposefully up to the front of the room. He crossed his arms and grimly watched the faces and heads of the working students. Luna hadn’t seen him smile once since the accident. She guessed more than bones had been broken during the collapse of the stadium. Luna took her place at a pre-designated location. Neville stood across from her on the other side of the room. They both stood in back to satisfy Professor Slughorn that neither, either by word or gesture, influenced the students or gave any indication of the real purpose of the exam. At the moment, Luna wouldn’t put it past Professor Slughorn to demand both Luna and Neville turn over their wands for “spell inspection” at the end of the exam to confirm they hadn’t somehow affected the outcome.  
          Luna scrutinized the back of the student heads carefully. If any misbehavior occurred, it would be her responsibility to manage it. Neville was there at the Headmistress’ insistence and served as a non-participant observer. Luna doubted Professor Slughorn would do anything to enforce student behavior. This was Luna’s show and she knew the Professor intended to watch every bit without distraction. But it wasn’t Luna’s show, not really. The show belonged to someone else, someone who didn’t realize it.  
          Everything hinged on what happened after Holly dropped her block. Luna knew Holly was blocking because she saw the girl’s eyes of roll up momentarily and then her whole body seemed to relax a fraction right after Albus Potter entered the annex. It wasn’t obvious but Luna had seen Holly do the same thing during class right before spell practice between students.  
         Luna had also watched Holly drop her block. Her eyes would glaze up and then her body would become tense as if bracing for some unseen force, most likely the sensation of the emotions of those around her. Holly had done that when lingering after class to ask a question; there were fewer students, thus fewer emotions. Presumably the girl found blocking unnecessary at such times. Luna had also seen Holly do the same thing right before meals but only for a moment and then she would resume blocking.  
          The minutes ticked by. The only sound that could be heard was the scratching of quills on paper. Of course, there was always a chance Holly would not drop her block. In which case all Luna’s efforts were for nothing and she’d have to think of something else.  
          Professor Slughorn had insisted Holly not be informed of anything in advance. If she failed, she would never know it—but they would. Professor Slughorn had also selected Holly’s seat location and determined who would sit next to her. Perhaps he thought the nearby Slytherin presence would discourage Holly from dropping her block. But Luna had also observed Holly dropping her block when her Dark Arts class was totally focused, involved in the same activity, such as taking an exam. It must be difficult to concentrate on answering questions while blocking. That was why Luna was certain Holly would eventually drop her block. After that, well, that remained to be seen.  
          Five more minutes passed. Neville shifted his feet restlessly and leaned his back against the wall. Luna sympathized. It was hard to stand quietly in one place and not roam the aisles. But roaming might be construed as a means to slip information to the students—one in particular. Luna wanted there to be no opportunity for Professor Slughorn to cry “foul!” should things turn out as she hoped.  
          Suddenly Holly’s head popped up and it turned from side to side as if looking around. “Five points from Hufflepuff,” announced Luna calmly. “Keep your eyes on your own paper, Miss Wycliff.”  
          “But I wasn’t—”  
          “Another five points for talking,” interrupted Luna before Holly could say more.  
          Holly’s head dropped immediately and Luna could see a faint flush of red creep up her neck. A drop of ten points was no small matter to the Hufflepuffs. The group rarely got awarded House points so they worked hard to keep the points they already had. A snigger sounded next to Holly. “Five points from Slytherin,” stated Luna promptly. “There shall be no sounds and no disturbances, Mr. Malfoy.”  
          Silence in the room resumed. Holly lifted her quill but it didn’t jerk back and forth as a quill did when in use. She was no longer working on the exam.  
          After five minutes, the quill in Holly’s hand slowly dropped, all pretext of working on the exam forgotten. Another five minutes passed, ten minutes, fifteen… Holly laid her quill on the desk and slowly raised her hand. She kept her head studiously down deliberately not looking to see if she had been noticed. Luna ignored the hand. After a while, the hand began to sway gently back and forth and then moved more vigorously as her silent plea for attention went unanswered.  
          Luna spoke again when the movement of the hand became sufficiently distracting to the surrounding students. “Another five points from Hufflepuff,” she said coldly. “Put your hand down, Miss Wycliff,” Luna ordered. “Any further distractions and I shall take your paper and ask you to leave.” Holly’s hand slowly lowered. Her head and shoulders seemed to hunch over the desk. Luna hated to push Holly this way but it was necessary to prove a point. Luna waited and watched. What would she do now?  
          The quills on either side of Holly slowed to a stop. Neither head had turned but Luna could tell both Scorpius and Tony were watching Holly out of the corners of their eyes and no doubt enjoying her humiliation. Though she kept her head straight down facing her desk Holly couldn’t help but be aware of it.  
          Abruptly Holly raised her quill and began writing rapidly across the front of her exam. She wasn’t writing an answer; the strokes were way too big. Then Holly shoved her chair back and stood. The noise of her actions seemed to reverberate loudly in the otherwise quiet room. All the quills in the room stopped moving, almost. The students knew better than to look, but Luna knew they were all watching, straining with their other senses, waiting to see or hear what would happen next. Holly turned and faced Luna. Her white face was filled with determination. Without a word she held out her exam for Luna to take.  
           Luna stepped forward and took the exam. She glanced down and silently read the writing scrawled across the front. “Are you certain?” she questioned the girl calmly.  
           Holly nodded without hesitation.  
          “Certain enough to take a zero on your exam, loose additional House points and receive detention?”  
          Holly nodded again, more slowly perhaps, but no less definite a nod.  
          Keeping her face expressionless Luna took the exam to the front of the room and handed it to Professor Slughorn. Professor Slughorn looked at the words on the exam without comment. Then he pulled out the tiny scroll he had received from Headmistress McGonagall. He unsealed it and read the words within. Afterwards he handed the scroll to Luna to read. Without bothering to look Luna took both the scroll and exam to Neville. She didn’t need to read the scroll to know both mentioned the same name.  
          Neville quietly read the words on the exam and then unrolled and read the words in the scroll. Silently he rerolled the scroll and then nodded his head to Luna. Luna turned to Professor Slughorn for confirmation. He grimly stared at Luna and considered her unvoiced question and then Professor Slughorn nodded his head as well.  
          “This exam is over,” declared Luna abruptly. “Everyone please put down your quill and leave, everyone except…” She paused for emphasis. All heads turned and looked to Luna hanging on her every word, well, almost all. “… Miss Wycliff and Mr. Fitzpatrick,” she finished.  
          Student heads immediately swiveled to find and look at Conner Fitzpatrick. He sat on one side of the front row. Conner was a lanky sandy haired boy whose scores were barely passing on a good day. That wasn’t because he was stupid, it was just that he didn’t like to write and didn't care about scores. Conner was a bit of a loner and preferred something called “Manga,” a Muggle activity of some sort that didn’t interest the children of wizard families. He was also painfully shy and tended to get flustered when called upon to answer a question. Today, however, Conner was industriously working on the exam. His head was bowed and he seemed oblivious of all the attention he just received.  
          “The no-talking rule is still in force,” Luna informed the group. “Please leave as quietly as possible.”  
          One by one the students filed out of the room. The Slytherins wore satisfied smirks on their faces. The Hufflepuffs were visibly upset; the Ravenclaws looked thoughtful and Gryffindors just seemed puzzled. When the last student had left the room Neville moved quietly forward and closed the door. He returned to his post by the wall.   Headmistress McGonagall was waiting outside and would insure Albus Potter made it safely to his dorm.

  *********************

          Luna looked again at Holly. She had stood stiffly throughout the exit of the other students. “Do not speak,” Luna swiftly informed the white-faced girl; Holly looked about ready to burst but the girl kept quiet while she looked accusingly at Luna. “Please sit,” Luna told Holly in a gentler voice, “and do _not_ speak,” Luna repeated.  
          Slowly Holly sat twisting her body in her chair so she could face Luna never taking her green eyes off Luna. When she had finished, Luna spoke again.  
          “You are correct,” she began softly. “Mr. Fitzpatrick has had an _Imperius Curse_ placed upon him,” Holly’s stiff body immediately relaxed a fraction. And she turned her head to look at Conner. He continued to write answers on his exam oblivious of their presence. “But that is not your concern and you may not ask any questions about it or him,” Luna told Holly. Headmistress McGonagall had placed a student under the _Imperius Curse_. She had done so without informing anyone else of her selection. Luna had only known the student she selected would be male and from the Gryffindor House. Neville had insisted on that.  
          “What _is_ your concern,” Luna told Holly calmly, “is that you finish your exam. Your mother has expressed worry that your medical problems are affecting your academic standing at this school.” That was true, though Luna doubted Holly’s mother ever dreamed of how her concerns were being addressed. “Before we can reassure her, we need to establish what progress you have indeed made.”  
          Luna walked up to the front desk and picked up a thick sheaf of papers resting there. It was a new exam, much longer than the last, and especially written for Holly. “It is very _important_ you complete this exam,” Luna told her firmly while placing the stack on the desk in front of Holly. “The rules have not changed,” she reminded the girl. “You may not speak or leave your chair. But if you do your work quietly and score well,” Luna added, “you will have a chance to earn back the House points you have so far lost and perhaps avoid a detention.” A little incentive could do a lot to secure Holly’s cooperation.  
          Holly regarded Luna a long time with those green eyes of hers. No doubt she was seeking additional emotional information from Luna. Luna wondered what emotions the girl could sense. Luna knew her Occlumency didn’t have the perfect control of students today but it was still much more than the average wizard without it. Luna relaxed her mental control as best she could and tried to fill her mind with sincerity. This was indeed very important, but not for the reasons Luna had given.  
          Slowly the tension melted out Holly; she nodded her head to Luna in acquiescence. Without a word the girl scooted her chair back up to the desk and turned her attention to the exam in front of her. She picked up the quill and began writing.

*********************

          Nearly two hours later Holly and Conner were still writing. Neville shifted quietly on his feet and discretely unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Luna didn’t blame him. It was warm in the classroom; she had arranged for the room to be kept several degrees higher than the usual during this exam. Professor Slughorn showed no signs of discomfort though. He hadn’t moved a centimeter and looked as wide-awake as before standing there front of the room with his arms crossed while grimly regarding the two remaining students.  
          Conner set down his quill; he had finished his exam. Holly looked up from her work immediately and towards the silent form sitting four rows in front of her. Conner sat unmoving awaiting the next command, a command that would never come. Holly then twisted her head to look hopefully back at Luna seeking further instruction. Luna did not respond and instead kept her face carefully empty of expression. Seeing no response, Holly sighed deeply and returned to her work. She shifted in her chair and adopted a more comfortable slouching position.  
          Judging from the number of pages turned, Luna guessed Holly was now attempting to answer an extensive series of true/false, multiple choice questions provided by Professor Binns—every exam question she had ever received from Professor Binns. After that came a long list of plant and herb names for which Holly was expected to specify identifying characteristics and medicinal qualities. Professor Slughorn had provided the list. All the professors who had ever taught Holly had contributed questions for her to answer. Luna wanted this exam to go on as long as possible. Once Holly completed the exam she would have no reason to stay. If nothing had happened by that time then the experiment would be considered a failure.  
          Holly shifted her weight to the opposite side of the desk and slouched some more while she worked. Her quill moved rather slowly across the page. Luna wondered idly how well Holly was doing on the exam, not that it mattered. Sitting in a comfortably warm room trying to answer uninteresting questions with no distractions after a long train ride to Hogwarts and a filling Welcome-Back meal was certainly not the best conditions for taking exams. In fact, Holly was probably rather tired…  
          Suddenly Holly shot up from her slouchy position and excitedly shouted, “That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” she continued heedless that she was supposed to remain silent and work on her exam.  
          Luna moved in front of Holly so she could address her without forcing the girl to turn, more importantly, so Professor Slughorn could see Holly’s face and expressions as well… “What’s it?” Luna asked softly.  
          “He’s there but he’s not there!” replied Holly eagerly. Her eyes shone brightly with all signs of weariness forgotten.  
          “Who?” questioned Luna careful to not put words in the girl’s mouth.  
          “Conner!” Holly explained impatiently. “He’s there but he’s not there!”  
_“Yes!”_ thought Luna with satisfaction. _“I’ve done it!”_  
          “How did you do it?” asked Holly.  
          “What do you mean?” Luna asked Holly in a calm voice hiding the excitement she felt. “I’ve _done_ nothing.” Not the way Holly meant. Luna had set up the exam and arranged for Headmistress McGonagall to cast the _Imperius Curse_ but after that, Luna had done nothing.  
          “But you must have!” protested Holly earnestly. “He was under the _Imperius Curse_ , I know he was but now there’s no curse and I can’t sense him—not at all!”  
          “Interesting,” murmured Luna softly keeping her responses to a minimum. All of the conclusions had to come from Holly without prompting.  
          “You had to have done something,” insisted Holly. “I mean it’s not like Conner can do Occlumency—in fact I’m certain he can’t—so how did you do it?”  
          “Do what?” asked Luna.  
          “Get him to be just like Albus!”  
          “Albus?”  
          “Yes! It’s just the way Albus was—I could see him but I couldn’t sense anything!”  
          “Are you sure?” questioned Luna. “I don’t believe you saw the back of Albus’ head…”  
          In response, Holly scrambled out of her chair and hurried to the front of the room. Luna followed. Neville came up and stood behind her. For the first time Luna saw Conner from the front. He sat in his chair with his writing hand resting easily on the desk. The quill lay on the desk nearby. His features were calm and relaxed but Conner did not move. His blue-gray eyes stared straight ahead; Luna could tell they saw nothing nor did they blink—not even once.  
          “Yes!” Holly breathed with continuing excitement. “This is exactly how I found Albus! Not moving, not blinking, no emotion! It’s the same—exactly the same! How did you do it?” she asked again looking up at Luna.  
          “I didn’t,” repeated Luna.  
          “But—”  
          “Even a mind under the _Imperius Curse_ will rest if not asked to do anything,” Luna added softly.  
          Holly’s green eyes grew wide and she brought her hand to her mouth as comprehension dawned. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “He was asleep!!! I can’t sense anyone when they’re asleep!” Holly confessed. “Albus had to have been sitting there since before the collapse!” she added remembering. “Of course he was asleep!!! Oh thank you! Thank you!” she said and impulsively hugged Luna.  
          “Hadn’t you better check for sure?” questioned Luna carefully.  
          “Huh?”  
          “What did you and James Potter do when you first saw Albus?”  
          Holly looked questioningly at Luna and then smiled. She reached out and lightly touched Conner’s shoulder. “Conner?” she said softly.  
          Like a Muggle light bulb turning on, Conner suddenly blinked and moved. “Wha—what’s going on?” he asked looking blankly around at the faces staring at him.  
          “That’s it!” Holly said again in excitement. “That’s the same kind of confusion I felt the last time! Exactly!!!”  
          Conner turned his head towards Holly. “Holly?” he said blankly. “What are you doing here?” His head swiveled around. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” he asked Luna, Neville and Professor Slughorn not waiting for an answer from Holly. “Hey! Where is everyone?” he asked rising out of his chair in alarm.  
          “The legs!” exclaimed Holly happily as he stood. “They’re stiff! Just like his was! I mean not exactly because he wasn’t sitting the same way but, oh, they’re stiff too!” she said delightedly.  
          Conner promptly looked down at his legs and then again at Holly in confusion. “Are you all right, Holly? What’s going on?” No doubt he found that ecstatic grin plastered on Holly’s face rather disconcerting.  
          “You’ve been part of a rather important experiment, Mr. Fitzpatrick,” answered Luna in a soothing voice. He turned to look at her. “Unfortunately, I must request that you not ask for any further explanations or any details about it at this time. Professor Longbottom will be able to discuss it with you later.” Luna glanced at Neville and he nodded his head to Conner reassuringly.  
          “Oh,” said Conner uncertainly.  
          “In the meantime,” continued Luna softly, “as it is rather late, I suggest you return to your dorm.”  
         “Late?” repeated Conner. “But I’ve got to—” he broke off as he looked at the desk. “When did I do that?” he asked staring down at the exam in confusion. He reached out, picked up the stack of parchment, thumbed through the papers and stared at the words written on them blankly. “That’s my handwriting,” he said uncertainly, “but I don’t remember writing any of it…”  
          “You did all of it,” assured Luna. “You worked very hard on it and now you should go to your dorm and rest.”  
          “Uh, yeah,” agreed Conner, “I suppose so…” His voice betrayed the bewilderment he no doubt felt. He pushed the chair in and started for the door.  
          “Mr. Fitzpatrick?” called out Luna.  
          “Yes?” he answered stopping mid stride.  
          “Would you be good enough to escort Miss Wycliff to her dorm along the way?”  
          “Huh?” Luna could see a faint flush of red creep up his neck. Conner was acutely aware of boy/girl associations and old enough to fear being teased…  
          "Miss Wycliff is under a medical directive that prevents her from traveling about Hogwarts alone,” explained Luna. She had checked with Harry earlier to confirm that the directive was still in place.  
          “Really?” asked Conner sudden interest replacing his earlier distress. “May I ask why?” he inquired curiously.  
          “From me, no,” replied Luna cryptically. The Professors had been instructed to make no references or inquiries about her medical problems, but Holly was under no such restriction. “But perhaps you might ask Miss Wycliff about that on the way to her dorm…” She looked at Holly as she spoke.  
          The happy expression on Holly’s face turned to alarm as she realized what Luna had just said. “Uh,” she began uncertainly.  
          “If nothing else, it could provide a useful … distraction from the things you _can’t_ talk about at this time…” Luna continued suggestively. “Like tonight’s exam…”  
          Holly gulped and nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said unhappily. “Come on,” she told Conner. “Let’s get going. I’m really tired.” Holly swiftly headed towards the exit. Conner gave one final confused glance at the professors and followed.  
          Luna pulled out her wand and caused the door to close firmly behind them.

*********************

          Luna turned to Professor Slughorn. “Well?” she asked softly.  
          “Well what?” replied Professor Slughorn gruffly, his stern continence giving up nothing.  
          “Ten minutes into the exam and Miss Wycliff knew something was wrong,” began Luna. “Twenty minutes later she not only knew what was wrong but _who!_ Not only that, but she was so sure that she was willing to risk everything— _everything!_ Loose House points and face a detention just to make sure we were informed!” Luna stopped to let that sink in.  
          “So?” Professor Slughorn finally said in an unyielding manner.  
          Luna removed her glasses and fixed her silvery eyes on Professor Slughorn. Then she spoke slowly and deliberately. “Miss Wycliff is no “fly-by-night bit of fluff that occasionally makes good guesses and banks on the Potter name for the attention she craves...” Luna was well aware of the derisive lines the Slytherins often repeated about Holly. Just because they were spoken did not make them true, but the Slytherins often made the mistake of believing what they said about other students. Professor Slughorn did not respond. Nor did he disagree. After a moment, Luna saw a faint heave of his body, which she took as an indication of assent. “And she is not given to telling falsehoods.” Luna added softly. “What she testified about Mr. Potter when she found him at the base of the stadium cannot be disregarded…” Professor Slughorn regarded Luna steadily without comment.  
          Luna took a deep breath. “Can you really believe that the son of _Harry Potter_ would have caused the collapse?” Professor Slughorn had been proud of his connection to Harry Potter, proud that he had been able to teach and help shape the person who saved the wizard world. Surely that name still meant something now...  
          “I don’t want to,” Professor Slughorn admitted softly, “but I know my students, _all_ of them,” he insisted stubbornly. “And they would _never ever_ do anything like this. I wouldn’t even consider Albus capable except, well, only a madman could do such an act…” persisted Professor Slughorn. “And only Albus fits that—”  
           “Albus Potter is not now, and has never been crazy,” interrupted Luna realizing suddenly that the collapse must have shaken Professor Slughorn’s faith in his ability to judge character...  
          “But—”  
          “Just because he has not chosen to share with you the reasons why he sees Thestrals is no reason to believe he cannot see them,” continued Luna. “There is more,” she added not giving the Professor a chance to respond. “Remember the Victory Tea served by the first year Slytherins that day to all their housemates?”  
          The Professor nodded slightly.  
          “Did you happen to sample some of it?”  
          “No,” he admitted. “It was for the students.”  
          “Did you know that those of you who, for whatever reasons, did not drink some tea are the ones who received the most damaging injuries?” Professor Slughorn looked surprised and gave the barest shake of his head. “In addition,” she continued, “no one seems to know who made it and the students who served the tea cannot remember doing so.”  
          “So,” responded Professor Slughorn. “It was a difficult day…”  
          “Those students,” continued Luna ignoring his reply, “who drank the tea recalled that they felt exhilarated afterwards, filled with a sense of infinite opportunity and thought that they could do anything, anything at all…” Luna paused and then added, “I remember feeling like that once,” she said softly. “Right after I took a sip of _Felix Felicis_ …” Luna stopped to let that information soak in. She knew Professor Slughorn had taken _Felix Felicis_ also. Of course he would remember what it was like—no one who had taken it would ever forget.  
           “This was no attempt at mass murder,” Luna told him. “In fact, it would seem every precaution was taken to insure the Slytherin students were _not_ seriously injured…” Luna paused again. She didn’t remind the Professor that only one person, a Slytherin, had submitted a sample of _Felix Felicis_ last year for the potions contest certain he would recall that fact on his own.  
          “An act of hatred or revenge would not come with an attempt to minimize injuries,” Luna whispered in her most persuasive tone. “And those were Albus’ only possible motives. The person who did this was no madman,” she informed him. “It was someone who committed a deliberate well-planned act of … diversion.”  
          “Diversion?” questioned Professor Slughorn in surprise.  
          “Diversion,” replied Luna firmly and went on to explain. “The collapse hurt people, but not seriously. It caused no damage that could not be rebuilt. But it kept the total Hogwarts staff, student body and _portraits_ occupied for over _five_ hours!” Luna paused to give Professor time to consider her words. She guessed it was a bit disconcerting to think that his pain and anguish might merely be an incidental _byproduct_ of the actual objective. When sufficient time had passed Luna continued.  
          “Tonight I recreated the conditions surrounding the discovery of Albus Potter at the base of the collapse by means of the _Imperius Curse_.” Professor Slughorn said nothing, a silent assent. That, in itself, was a major concession. Despite a missing bottle, the Professor had still been adamant Albus could only have been there through the use of potions without outside assistance or influence. Luna continued. “The use of an _Imperius Curse_ was not only possible but it now becomes a viable explanation for what happened to Mr. Potter that day. An _Imperius Curse_ also fits the supplemental evidence we found better than an explanation using potions.” She did not remind him of the flaws suggested earlier concerning his potions theory.  
           Luna took a deep breath, “Albus Potter did not do this thing,” she asserted forcefully. “He was there when it happened,” she admitted, “but he was brought to that place and made to remain by use of the _Imperius Curse_.”  
          Luna waited. She had said what she wished to say and provided the best proof she could under the circumstances. How would the Professor respond? He had always asserted the Albus was guilty. Had she managed to change his mind?  
          “What do you want?” the professor demanded his stony face not revealing the thoughts within.  
          Luna looked into the professor’s pale green eyes and said softly, “I want you to believe, in your heart and mind, that Albus Severus Potter, the son of _Harry_ _Potter,_ did not do this terrible thing.”  
         “Why?”  
          “Because if you do not believe it then the Slytherin students will never believe it either!” Luna straightened. “You saw the Slytherins tonight. Their tempers have not cooled since December. They are angry,” she acknowledged, “and rightly so, but it is anger directed at the wrong person. I don’t know yet who did this terrible thing, but it was _not_ Albus Potter.” Luna paused and took a breath before continuing. “The vendetta must stop!” she insisted. “Professor Longbottom can control the Gryffindors,” Neville silently nodded his head, “but it is meaningless if the Slytherins persist in believing this horrible lie, not only believe it but are willing to act on it. Only _you_ can persuade them otherwise; only _you_ can make it safe for the _son_ of Harry Potter to walk the halls of Hogwarts.” Luna fell silent and waited, afraid of saying too much. The minutes ticked by like hours in the silence as the Professor considered her words. Should she say more? Had she said too much already?  
          Finally Professor Slughorn’s stiff body seemed to relax as if he had come to a weighty decision. He nodded his head at Luna. “Very well,” he told her. “I’ll do it.”  
          Neville’s body seemed to relax and Luna breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Professor Slughorn’s word had always been good.  
          “What would you have me say?” he asked finally.  
          “Say what you will,” Luna replied firmly. “Convince them the truth of your words but leave Miss Wycliff out of it. The less people involved the better. There is still someone out there, someone capable of destroying a stadium and placing an _Imperius Curse_ on a child.” Someone they still had to find…


	35. Chapter 35

          “Something’s —” Holly paused unsure of her words.  
          “What?” asked Mark quickly. “Is something up?”  
          “I don’t know…” replied Holly thoughtfully. She had dropped her block the moment she had entered the Great Hall for breakfast as she always did and the emotions she sensed were … different. Was it the Slytherins? It was usually them. Maybe it was; they didn’t seem as angry as before but then Holly had been back only one day and wasn’t yet familiar with the usual school emotions… The Ravenclaws were their usual aloofness and the Gryffindors, they were usually a jumble of emotions; today they seemed more united somehow… But why? “It’s just, different,” Holly finished lamely, “but I don’t know what that means…”  
          “Well, when you figure it out let us know,” Mark told Holly. The Hufflepuffs always appreciated any advanced notice Holly gave them of student undercurrents and behavior.  
          Frowning thoughtfully, Holly resumed blocking and sat down with her friends to eat.  
          Halfway through the meal Headmistress McGonagall stood and called for the attention of the students. Everyone looked up at the dais. “The investigation of the stadium,” she began, “has determined that Mr. Albus Potter is not at fault!”  
          All the Gryffindors burst into applause and cheers! They were clapping Albus on the back in shouting “congratulations.” If the Headmistress said anything else, Holly didn’t hear it over the noise.  
          Surveying the Hall, Holly saw the Ravenclaws applaud politely. The Slytherins didn’t applaud; but they didn’t look overly surprised or upset either. Holly swiftly dropped her block again. She focused her concentration in the direction of the Slytherins. No, she confirmed, they weren’t happy, surprised or upset. They didn’t emit the raging anger of December, or, for that matter, the hatred she had felt the previous night in the annex— _“That’s what that exam was about!”_ Holly thought excitedly. It wasn’t only to prove it was possible but to convince Professor Slughorn! Only he could hold sway with the Slytherins.  
          Holly swung her gaze up at the Professor. Yes, he still looked grim, but not like last night. Last night, if looks could kill, his would have! This morning, Professor Slughorn almost looked relaxed in comparison. He must have spoken with the Slytherins and gotten them to accept the decision.  
          Suddenly the whole hall grew totally silent. Holly looked around to find the cause. Albus Potter had risen from his seat and was walking towards the Slytherin table. Everyone watched as he came to a stop in front of the seated Slytherins.  
          “It has come to my attention,” he began in a loud clear voice, “that I have been terribly rude and discourteous. It has been my misfortune,” Albus continued, “to frequently stumble and fall during the school year. It has further been the bad luck of numerous Slytherins students to be in my path when I fell. It was never my intention to stumble or fall and it was certainly not my intention to stumble and fall deliberately choosing to land upon Slytherin students. For that I deeply apologize to each and every one of you and hope it does not happen again. However, should I stumble again, I shall make every effort to miss you. Failing that, I shall make it a point to apologize more promptly.” With that, Albus gave a brief bow and walked back to his table. The Slytherins regarded Albus in stony silence but the rest of the hall erupted in another cheer.  
          “That took guts,” murmured Clayton Eggleton approvingly as he joined in the cheering.  
          “He’s Gryffindor,” replied Holly proudly. “They’re brave.” She looked up at Professor Slughorn. There was a ghost of a smile on his face. Holly smiled. The spring session was shaping up to be infinitely better than the fall.  
          Holly hadn’t thought that way last night. Her elation at discovering how Albus might have been at the stadium had been marred by the prospect of walking back to her dorm with Conner! It was bad enough to have to deal with her flashbacks in front of friends and family who knew and understood, but a stranger? That was unthinkable! Sure, Holly had seen Conner around and in class but he always had his nose in a comic book and they’d scarce said two words to each other.  
          All of Holly’s resolve to refuse to explain anything ended at the first squeaky sounds of Pettigrew. She knew he would whisper to her and exactly when, but knowing hadn’t helped any. Holly threw up all over Conner! After that, she had to say something… Extremely embarrassed, Holly apologized profusely.  
          “You must do that a lot,” commented Conner calmly. Holly could tell he assumed the vomiting was the cause of her medical restrictions and felt his instant sympathy and pity, which made her feel even more embarrassed. “You got gastritis?” he asked bluntly and then continued without waiting for an answer, “I had no idea wizards could get sick like that.”  
          “No!” protested Holly pulling out her wand to clean up the mess. “I don’t have gastritis whatever that is! I’m not sick, not like that!”  
          “Then it’s probably just because of the stress from—where’d you get that wand,” he asked suddenly. Looking down Holly realized she had pulled out the Lily wand—her regular wand being still packed away in her bag.  
          “Uh, it was a gift…” she said guiltily as her cleaning spell rapidly took care of the mess.  
          “I’ve never known anyone with two wands before!” Conner said impressed. “They’re expensive. How’d you get it?”  
          “None of your business!” snapped Holly. “Sorry,” she immediately apologized feeling instantly ashamed. Connor was just trying to be polite and Holly could sense the hurt she had caused by her reaction. “It’s just that the person who gave it to me isn’t, uh, alive any more and I get kind of sad when I think about him.” Holly tucked the wand safely out of sight again.  
          “Oh,” said Conner sympathetically. “Sorry.”  
          “It’s O.K.,” replied Holly. “I just over reacted.”  
          “You ready?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “To continue! Are you ready to go on?”  
          “Uh, yeah, about that,” began Holly looking apprehensively at the stairs in front of her. She had stepped off the “Pettigrew path” immediately after throwing up and was reluctant to venture on it again. “There’s something you need to know first…”  
          “You going to barf on me again?” Conner asked bluntly.  
          “Oh, no! Not that!” Holly hastened to assure him, “It’s just that, well, um, I’m going to act kind of weird going up the stairs…”  
          “Oh? Like how?”  
          “Like I’ll be kind of preoccupied so don’t talk to me or anything…”  
          “Why?”  
          “Because I won’t be answering back,” explained Holly patiently. “And I don’t want you to feel offended or anything.”  
          “Oh. Why?”  
          “I just told you why!” Holly replied.  
          “Not that, why are you preoccupied?”  
          “None of your business!” snapped Holly again. Conner wasn’t trying to be polite this time; he was just being nosy!  
          “Actually, I think it is,” replied Conner. “If I’m responsible for seeing that you get to your dorm safely then I’m entitled to know exactly what to expect along to the way. Don’t you agree?”  
          “No!” argued Holly stubbornly.  
          In response, Conner straightened and folded his arms. “We’re not going anywhere until I know exactly what’s going on,” he insisted obstinately.  
          “Fine! Have it your way!” retorted Holly. “I’ll go without you!”  
          “And disobey your medical directive? I don’t think so!” replied Conner stepping in front of Holly blocking her way. Taller than Holly, Conner glared down at her with his blue-gray eyes; she glared back. The two remained that way for several minutes.  
          “Oh, very well,” Holly finally said when Conner gave no indication of backing down. “If you must know I hear this voice and it’s rather distracting so I won’t be able to think of much else while I go up the stairs.”  
          “You hear a voice,” repeated Conner.  
          “Yeah.”  
          “I don’t hear anything when I go up the stairs.”  
          “Of course not!” exploded Holly. “Only _I_ can hear it!”  
          “Only you can hear it?” he questioned blankly. “How?”  
          “In my head, of course!” How could anybody be so dense!  
          “Oh.” Then, “You see thestrals too?”  
          “Of course not! That’s completely different!”  
          “Is it?” Conner questioned. “Voices no one can hear; invisible creatures… Sounds a lot alike to me.”  
          “Well it isn’t!” insisted Holly. “Thestrals _do_ exist!”  
          “And this voice! Does it exist?”  
          “Well, _I_ hear it!”  
          “Right.” And Holly didn’t need to be an Empath to hear the disbelief in Conner’s voice.  
          “Oh, good grief!” said Holly in frustration. She grabbed Conner’s hand started up the stairs…  
          Of course Pettigrew’s squeaky voice stopped Holly mid-stride and Conner had to push from behind to keep her going. The five flights of stairs seemed like an eternity. Holly insisted on stopping just off the fifth floor landing to clear her mind of his awful voice before continuing.  
          “So what are the doctors doing about it?” asked Conner bluntly. Muggle-born, he clearly didn’t have much faith in healers.  
          “Not much,” sighed Holly. “Pettigrew’s the least of my problems at the moment.”  
          “Pettigrew?” asked Conner sharply. “He’s dead!”  
          “Don’t you think I know that!” exclaimed Holly in frustration. “Wait a minute! How do you know he’s dead?”  
          “It was in the _Prophet_!” answered Conner succinctly. “Rita’s follow-up article after her interview with Harry Potter. It was titled: _Crime Family!_ ”  
          “Oh, that’s awful,” said Holly guiltily remembering the reason why Cousin Harry had given that interview. She started walking down the corridor.  
          “I agree!” replied Conner following Holly. “Murdered grandparents, a bank robber for a dad who had a mass-murderer for a godfather, no wonder Albus has problems!”  
          “There is nothing wrong with Albus!” raged Holly.  
          “Sure,” agreed Conner and his emotions shouted out anything but agreement.  
          “And for your information Sirius Black never killed Peter Pettigrew or those Muggles and Albus truly _can_ see thestrals! Don’t you know anything?”  
          “Just what I read,” replied Conner calmly. “You Potters kind of keep to yourself.”  
          “I am _not_ a Potter!” stormed Holly stopping and stamping her foot in anger. “How can you just mindlessly repeat everything the Slytherins say?”  
          “Cause they’re the only ones talking!” retorted Conner sharply. “Besides, you _are_ related aren’t you?”  
          “Well, yes,” conceded Holly.  
          “And the bank robbery?”  
          “I guess Cousin Harry did that—but I’m sure it was for a good reason,” Holly added swiftly. She started walking again turning a corner.  
          “Of course,” agreed Conner keeping step with Holly. Then he added, “Don’t take this the wrong way but I expect every criminal thinks what he or she did was for a good reason…” He held up his hand when he saw Holly about to protest and added, “I’m sure Harry Potter is a fairly good person, after all he did get rid of this Voldemort guy and he’s been walking around free ever since, but you have to admit that was over 20 years ago and enough is enough! Don’t you think it’s time the wizards quit living in the past and look for some new heroes? And I certainly don’t think people should be given special privileges just because they’re related to somebody famous!”  
          “What do you mean?” asked Holly coldly.  
          “Take Albus,” Conner continued. “Any other person found at the sight of the collapse like that would have been arrested and sent to jail! At the very least he would have been expelled for sure—but not Albus! Not the son of the _famous_ Harry Potter!  
          “Albus did _not_ cause that collapse!”  
          “That’s not the way I hear it—where’s your proof?”  
          Holly bit her lip to keep quiet. The proof was Conner! Not that he knew it or that it was probably admissible in any proper court….  
          “Course I shouldn’t be talking to you about this,” continued Conner as they turned another corner. “Your family has been milking the “Potter” name for all it’s worth ever since you got here!”  
          “What?!!” sputtered Holly stopping in her tracks. “We have not!”  
          “Course you have: arriving late so everyone would notice your entrance, a private sorting by the Sorting Hat, traveling with a cat making you even more noticed, not mentioning the Potter connection so when it came out it would make a bigger splash... Your parents even tried to change your name to Potter!”  
          “What are you talking about?” asked Holly astounded.  
          “That guardianship stuff!” Conner replied frankly. “Giving Harry Potter legal guardianship of you is tantamount to changing your last name! Honestly! What were they thinking? Have your parents no pride in themselves?”  
          “They had other concerns at the time,” retorted Holly angrily. “How do you know about that anyway?”  
          “ _The Prophet_ ,” replied Conner matter-of-factly. “It says that your parents are so awed by the Potter name that they’re ashamed of their own in comparison!”  
          “And you believed that?” questioned Holly in disbelief.  
          “You got a better explanation?” Conner asked bluntly staring directly at Holly.  
          “Well, yeah! My dad doesn’t want anything to do with wizards and figures that there’ll be less of it if Cousin Harry takes care of that stuff!  
          “Oh. That’s kind of weird.”  
          “Not if you knew my dad,” retorted Holly as she resumed walking. “He hates wizards, he even hates Cousin Harry but as they grew up together and Cousin Harry’s related, dad tolerates him.”  
          “Really? Who’d have thought?” There was a twinge of disbelief in his words.  
          “Maybe you should have asked first before making assumptions,” chastised Holly.  
          “I did,” replied Conner. “And I was told it was “none of my business!” Kind of like what you said earlier.”  
          “Oh,” said Holly immediately contrite. “Well, it isn’t any of your business,” she confirmed. “Nor is it the business of the _Daily Prophet’s_. And if that’s the kind of stuff the _Prophet_ prints—no wonder Cousin Harry doesn’t like Rita Skeeter!”  
          “Perhaps,” conceded Conner. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you earlier, but you got to admit, the Potters are a rather clannish and secretive and you’re just as bad with your Potter groupies!”  
          “Groupies!” sputtered Holly.  
          “Yeah, Mark and Becky—you’re never without them! Must make you feel pretty good to have constant admirers around…”  
          “They’re my friends!” exploded Holly. “You ever hear of that?”  
          “Becky, maybe, but Mark? He’s a pureblood wizard; there’s no way he would hang around a couple of newbees like you and Becky without the Potter name as incentive!” Conner paused as a new thought occurred to him. “Say, you haven’t had the medical restriction on traveling all this time have you?”  
          “No, I haven’t!” exclaimed Holly, “and for your information, I’m Hufflepuff, remember? And the Hufflepuffs encourage us to stay in groups to avoid Slytherin bullying!”  
          “Oh, well, I guess that makes sense,” admitted Conner reluctantly.  
          “And as for the Potters being clannish and secretive, they have to be!” defended Holly. “It’s called wanting a bit of privacy! They’ve been pointed and stared at since the day they arrived at Hogwarts. In addition, the family gets chased by reporters and hounded by people who just want to be associated with the Potter name!”  
          “Well, they haven’t been hounded by me!” asserted Conner staunchly. “I couldn’t figure out what all the hoopla was about in the first place! Still can’t! Voldemort was just some guy who broke the rules and got stopped!”  
          Holly stopped her walk mid-stride and wheeled around to face Conner. She knew Conner had been in the Memorial Room at least twice. Commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts was an annual school ceremony. How he could not have been affected or realize the importance of Cousin Harry’s deed? She drew a deep breath and said “Lord Voldemort wasn’t just some guy who broke a few rules. He was kind of like, uh,” she searched for terms a Muggle-born like herself would understand, “Like a wizard _Hitler!_ ”  
          “No!” scoffed Conner.  
          “Really!” insisted Holly. “Only Voldemort hated half-bloods and wizards with Muggle parents instead of Jews. And if he were still alive, you wouldn’t be here because they were throwing all the Mudbloods into Azkaban prison and killing off their families!” Holly shivered remembering anew her grief at the loss of Becky and Ravindra’s complete desolation. Then she added, “Mudbloods are wizards with Muggle parents, in case you don’t know. You may not think much of the Potters,” Holly said fiercely looking directly in Conner’s eyes, “but don’t _ever_ make light of the importance of what Cousin Harry did!”  
          Such was the intensity of Holly’s words that Conner stared at her in shock. “Sorry,” he finally mumbled looking away. “I’m uh, not very good at history,” he told her.  
          “Me neither,” admitted Holly accepting his apology. She turned and started walking again. “I guess being related to the Potters has forced me to pick up a few facts…”  
          “That’s for sure,” Conner agreed. They stopped in front of a portrait with a familiar courtroom scene. The Judge frowned at her arrival. “Uh, this is the entrance to my dorm,” Holly explained. “I guess you can leave, now,”  
          “Nothing doing," objected Conner. “How do I know something won’t happen after I leave and before you get inside?” Holly rolled her eyes. “I won’t tell the password, he assured her. “Promise!”  
          “Very well,” decided Holly quickly.  She wanted to be rid of Conner as soon as possible. “Excuse me, ah, sir,” she began getting the Judge’s attention. “Um, why did the tomato blush?” she asked.  
          “WHY?” the Judge exploded angrily.  
          “Because she saw the _salad dressing!_ ” answered Holly. In response, the Judge got angrier and angrier until the whole courtroom exploded in laughter. Even Conner smiled enjoying their infectious laughter. Then the frame of the portrait swung open revealing a passageway.  
          “My dorm’s in there,” Holly told him pointed and you’re not permitted inside. “Thanks for the company.”  
          “No problem. Uh, Holly?”  
          “Yes?”  
          “If I have any other Potter-related questions, can I ask you?”  
          “I guess, so, sure,” Holly told him. “I may not answer, but I promise I won’t tell you it’s “none of your business” either.”  
          “Fair enough,” laughed Conner.  
          “Conner?”  
          “Yeah?”  
          “I’d rather you not tell anybody about my dad, please. He has his faults, but I love him a lot.”  
          “O.K. Uh, have a nice night,” he told her.  
          “You too,” replied Holly and she stepped into the passageway. The frame gently swung shut behind her.

********************

          “Anyone wan’ sum more Petit Fours?” asked Hagrid in his booming voice.  
          “Sure,” said Holly. She wiped the flobberworm mucus off her hand and took a treat from the tray.  
          “Me too!” exclaimed Albus reaching out to get one too as did Lily, Rose, James and Taylor. Only Conner looked dubiously at the colorful dainty looking squares on the tray. He had been foolish enough to try one…  
          “Take one,” whispered Holly to Conner. “The owls love ‘em!” She quietly pocketed her square and then returned to cleaning flobberworms. She saw Conner take one and put it in his pocket.  
          Officially, Holly was inside Professor Hagrid’s hut serving her detention. Professor Hagrid had brought in three huge empty barrels and several buckets filled with flobber and bloodworms all of which needed to be cleaned sorted and repacked for storage. Unofficially the occasion was also a celebration party for Albus and Holly.  
          Professor Longbottom had apparently awakened all the Gryffindors early that morning and told them Albus’s name had been cleared. He didn’t provide any details of how this had happened but promised major loss of house points should any Gryffindor be found gloating over, harassing or otherwise bothering the Slytherins…  
          When that meeting ended, the Professor pulled Albus and Conner aside for a private conference. He swore them both to secrecy and then told the two some more details of what else had occurred during the exam and how Holly had taken a detention to help clear Albus’ name...  
          Albus immediately felt responsible for the detention and figured it was only fair the Potters help out. Conner had come along because, well, he’d helped too, and it seemed only right he share in the festivities. Not that cleaning and packing flobber and bloodworms was any fun, but with lots of people working while engaged in cheerful conversation, along with tea and snacks, the task seemed much easier and went much faster.  
          The door rattled and a low whine could be heard outside. That was Fang. There were so many people crowded in the hut that Fang had been pushed outside to make more space. The huge boarhound sat unhappily outside the door and constantly begged to be let in.  
          “Professor Longbottom said there has definitely been an intruder at Hogwarts. We still don’t know who or why but he apparently has been living in the Room of Requirement,” reported Albus as he carefully placed a layer of cleaned bloodworms on a layer of bonemeal in the bottom of the barrel. Lily covered the bloodworms with a second layer of bonemeal. “He said the person left sometime before the holidays and isn’t there now...”  
          “Mmm,” smiled Holly as she listened and cleaned the slime off the flobberworms. She didn’t need Albus to tell her the Room of Requirement was empty again. Holly had spent a perfectly marvelous two hours before dinner playing the organ; even now she could hear in her head the haunting strands of the new melody she had just learned.  
          “There are apparently some spells in place to let them know if whomever it is returns…”  
          “Does that mean we can’t use it?” asked Rose as she placed some cleaned flobberworms into a barrel.  
          “I doubt it,” replied Albus speculatively as he dumped a bucket of water and bloodworms into a sieve over another bucket. “I just think he’s going to know if the room gets used and by whom.” Once the excess water drained out, Albus poured some fresh water over the bloodworms rinsing them further.  
          Holly had spotted one security measure but didn’t mention it. The less people knew about security plans the better. Nobody had stopped Becky and her from using the room but upon leaving Holly noticed a small addition to the tapestry on the wall across from the entrance. The figure of an artist had been woven into the tapestry. He appeared to be painting the efforts of Barnabas the Barmy as he taught the trolls ballet, but when Holly looked closer, she saw a perfect rendition of herself and Becky on his canvas…  
          “Say, did you notice Trelawney didn’t call me an “evil eye” today?” Albus asked as he placed the damp bloodworms onto a towel to get off the excess moisture.  
          “She never called you an “evil eye,” corrected Rose as she started cleaning the contents of another bucket of flobberworms. “She always said the “evil eye” was watching you.”  
          “Whatever,” conceded Albus, who was in too good of a mood to argue. “Well, she didn’t do it and I felt marvelous all day! The Slytherins still look at me like I’m some kind of pariah,” he acknowledged, “but I didn’t trip or stumble once! I feel as if a horrible weight has been lifted from my shoulders.” He poured the damp bloodworms into the barrel and Lily promptly covered them with more bonemeal.  
          “That’s great,” said Holly. She poured her bucket of cleaned flobberworms into the appropriate barrel.  
          “She probably quit calling you that because your name got cleared,” suggested Taylor. Taylor was cleaning some bloodworms; he had poured water in a bucket of bloodworms and was swirling the worms around to wash off the excess dirt and fecal matter.  
          “Whatever, as long as she quits,” said Albus. “I’m sure she was doing it deliberately before.” He began to strain and rinse off the bucket of bloodworms Taylor had just cleaned.  
          “Maybe she was talking about someone behind you,” suggested Lily. She used her finger to make swirly designs in the pile of bonemeal while waiting to cover more bloodworms.  
          “There was no one behind me! Ever!” asserted Albus as he poured the bloodworms onto the towel.  
          “Someone you couldn’t see?” Lily suggested.  
          “How?” questioned Albus. “We’ve got the cloak.”  
          “There are other ways to become invisible besides a cloak,” commented James. He was taking the slime off another bucket of flobberworms. “I’ve heard the disillusionment charm works pretty well.”  
          “True,” agreed Holly remembering how she had used that with Cousin Harry to watch Meg’s reunion with her family. None of the Muggles had noticed their presence—not that they were looking too hard at the time... She emptied her bowl of flobberworm mucus into a quart-sized storage jar.  
          “But Holly would’ve still known…” assured Albus. He poured the bloodworms into the barrel and spread them about.  
          “Maybe not,” commented Rose. “I’ve read that Empaths aren’t supposed to be able to sense the emotions of wizards using Occlumency.” She poured another bucket of cleaned flobberworms into the barrel.  
          “That true?” asked Conner interested. Conner had been busy cracking and separating eggs. The egg whites were used to cover the flobberworms and keep them moist during storage… Conner placed the egg yolks in a huge bowl for later use by Professor Hagrid. Madam Maxine had given the Professor several recipes to try that required egg yolks.  
          “Um, it’s true I can’t sense everyone’s emotions,” said Holly, “but whether the ones I can’t sense are using Occlumency or not I don’t know…” She carefully added more flobberworm mucus into the storage jar filling it to the top. Then she corked it and placed the jar on the counter. To further seal the jar Holly picked up the burning candle on the counter and dripped hot wax all around the edges of the cork. When finished, she returned the lit candle to the counter. She poured the rest of the mucus into a new storage jar and sat down to clean more flobberworms.  
          “That’s a pretty small classroom, though,” commented Taylor thoughtfully as he swirled water inside a new bucket of bloodworms. “We’d have surely noticed someone else, invisible or not…”  
          “We never moved around too much once we got inside,” mused Conner. He cracked another egg and swiftly strained out the yolk. “I bet if the person got there before us, hung out against the wall and kept quiet we might never notice him…”  
          “That’s assuming there is something to Trelawney’s “Evil Eye” business,” said Rose. “Can I borrow your egg white bowl?” she asked Conner. He nodded and handed her the filled bowl. “We already agreed she was a crackpot…” Rose added as she poured the egg whites over the flobberworms and returned the bowl to Conner. As the barrel was full, Rose used her wand and caused the barrel to float up over everyone’s head and land near to the wall next to the door out of the way.  
          “That was before we knew there was an intruder on campus,” put in James. He moved an empty barrel to the center of the room and poured his cleaned flobberworms into it. “The intruder would have to spend his or her days somewhere…”  
          “But that’s ridiculous!” sputtered Albus looking up from the barrel of bloodworms. “Who would want to hang out every day in the Divination class?”  
          “Who would want to frame you for the stadium collapse?” countered James. No one had an answer for that.  
          “Well,” said Holly finally while looking up from her flobberworm work. “If there was someone there, I don’t think he was interested in you, Albus. Professor Trelawney kept on shouting “Evil Eye” at me after you were suspended and not even in the classroom.”  
          “How’s Tweedy Bird?” asked Conner changing the subject. He tossed some empty eggshells into the bucket set aside for the chickens.  
          “Jes’ fine,” said Professor Hagrid happily. The Professor had taken a leave of absence from Hogwarts to help the Department of Endangered Magical Species transport the Roc to its new home in Albania. “It took its firs’ flight two days later,” he told the group proudly. “Course it was just a short hop up an’ down so th’ wizards had ta keep on feeding Tweedy a while. But it was fetchin’ its own food by th’ end o’ th’ month!” The Professor picked up a round board, fitted it on top of the barrel filled with flobberworms. He used his fist to pound an iron rim around it sealing the barrel.  
          “That’s great!” said Holly enthusiastically. She was glad the big bird was far away from Hogwarts now. She dumped her cleaned worms into the barrel and then poured the mucus into the storage jar.  
          “There was an article about it in the _Prophet,_ ” added Conner as he cracked another egg, “right below the one ab—” Conner’s voice died away. Holly could immediately sense his guilt and embarrassment. Everyone in the room knew the article on the Roc was below the headline story featuring the interview given by Cousin Harry…  
          “I’m really sorry about that interview, Albus,” said Holly earnestly. “I never said those things about you, honest!” She had looked up the back issues of the _Prophet_ in the library after dinner and found both the interview and the subsequent article published by Rita. The interview had finished with a description of the tearful young cousin who bravely stood by the family even though she “feared for her own safety after giving incriminating testimony…”  
          “Yeah, I know,” said Albus. “Dad said you never said a word to Rita.”  
          “But that’s not the way the story reads…” argued Conner looking up from the egg yolk he had just separated.  
          “What actually happened rarely sells as much papers,” commented James dryly. He handed his bowl of flobberworm mucus to Holly to add to the storage jar. Holly filled the jar to the top, corked and sealed the jar with wax and sat down to continue cleaning flobberworms.  
          “Well, if she’s printing falsehoods, why don’t you complain?” Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Conner. In the silence that followed, Holly almost heard the phrase “None of your business!” But somehow, perhaps because Conner had helped clear Albus, he was past that point and deserved more…  
          “I had a long talk with mum about that,” Albus finally. He looked down into the barrel of bloodworms as he spoke. “She says it’s best to ignore Rita; treat what she writes as if it is not even worth the time to read. Mum said that nobody’s ever won a lawsuit against the _Prophet_ and if you complain about what Rita writes, she’ll twist the words around, use them for follow-up articles and sell even more papers. By not responding, the subject gets dropped sooner.”  
          “But she made you look so bad…”  
          “So?” Albus said without looking up. “We’d look worse if we argued with her. Besides, it’s not like dad’s running for public office or anything. Mum says those who know the family know better than to believe anything Rita writes. People foolish enough to believe Rita, well they’d believe anything and aren’t worth knowing…”  
          Conner dropped his gaze guiltily.  
          “Course, it’s probably his refusal to deal with Rita that keeps the Potter name so hot,” added Rose thoughtfully as she poured her flobberworm mucus into an empty storage jar. “I don’t think Rita likes Uncle Harry and he certainly doesn’t like her.”  
          “Then why’d he bother to do the interview?” asked Conner as he reached for an empty bowl to fill with more egg yolks.  
          In response, everyone suddenly looked at Holly. She looked down guiltily. “Um, we were in a Muggle café,” she began hesitantly. “Rita came in with a couple of other wizards… She swore she’d make a real big stink with lots of Muggle publicity if we didn’t do the interview…”  
          “But that’s, that’s _blackmail!_ ” exploded Conner in disbelief.  
          “Not quite,” replied James calmly. James went on to explain the deal his dad had made with Rita afterwards…  
          “Do you really think she’ll give Albus equal space in the paper?” asked Rose looking up from her bucket of flobberworms.  
          “I don’t know,” James answered thoughtfully as he finished cleaning another bucket of flobberworms. “I’ve never heard of Rita making a promise before…”  
 _“Promise!”_ thought Holly suddenly. Perhaps that was the difference between Headmaster Snape and other Slytherins. He had made a promise and kept it! “I think she’ll keep her word,” Holly said out loud. “It isn’t often Slytherins make promises…”  
          “We’ll see,” said Taylor dubiously as he handed the last bucket of bloodworms to Albus to drain and rinse. “The announcement clearing Albus’ name came out today so the _Prophet_ should say something about it tomorrow… In the meantime, you should be forewarned, Conner: now that you’ve been seen with the Potters, watch out for nice little old ladies wanting to know more about life in Hogwarts the next time you go to Hogsmeade… Rita Skeeter’s rather good at disguises and she’ll try to interview you to get inside information on the Potters.”  
          “Seriously?”  
          “Seriously,” agreed James. He poured the flobberworms into the barrel.  
          “She’s had a go at all of us, ‘cept Lily here,” said Albus looking fondly at his little sister. “Dad usually manages to keep Rita away but that doesn’t stop her from trying.” He tipped the bloodworms into the barrel and spread them out.  
          “You too?” asked Conner looking directly at Holly.  
          “Yes,” admitted Holly remembering that “nice” lady at the train station one day.  
          “So it’s true Harry Potter keeps you from doing interviews?”  
          “What? No.”  
          “But the Slytherins say—”  
          “The Slytherins never bothered to ask me first and probably wouldn’t believe anything I said,” replied Holly scornfully. “Cousin Harry offered to set up an interview for me—a proper one, not one of the sneak jobs, with any paper I wanted but I said “No.” It’s been hard enough just being a cousin to the Potters let alone have the spotlight focused totally on me! No way!”  
          “Th’ Slytherins have a habit o’ makin’ up stories an’ passin’ em along as fact,” added Professor Hagrid. “After a while, ya get ta know who to listen to an’ who ta ignore.”  
          “And how to read between the lines…” piped up Lily. Everyone laughed.  
          “Say, how’s the new route?” the Professor asked Holly. He stacked up several empty buckets on the wall for cleaning later.  
          “Route, what route?” asked James curiously.  
          “Just marvelous, so far,” answered Holly to Hagrid with a smile. Then she explained, “I’ve a new route around the school that avoids Pettigrew!” Professor Iverson had given it to her at breakfast.  
          “Congratulations!” cheered the group wholeheartedly.  
          “That why you went off towards the lake after Herbology?” asked Rose as she emptied the last of her cleaned flobberworms into the barrel.  
          “Yep! There’s a boat waiting for me at the docks and it takes me into the castle through the tunnel to the Chamber of Reception. From there I can get to the Great Hall for lunch! Then I go back down to the dungeon and enter a passage that leads up to the forth floor.”  
          “It used ta lead to Hogsmeade,” informed Professor Hagrid. “Th’ Headmistress had me open, clean an’ fix up th’ part within Hogwarts when I got back from Albania.”  
          “After that it’s just one more floor to my dorm!” said Holly jubilantly.  
          “That sounds kind of convoluted,” commented Conner.  
          “Anything to avoid Pettigrew!” said Holly determinedly.  
          “But shouldn’t there be some other passage you can use to get to the fifth floor without using the main stairs?” questioned Rose. She filled the storage jar to the brim with mucus and proceeded to seal it.  
          “There is,” sighed Holly, “but I’m still working on it. There’s a Ravenclaw passage in the library that goes up to the seventh floor. They’ve talked to the portrait and gotten me special permission to use it but I have to answer a riddle first.”  
          “Can we help?” asked Albus while he rinsed off some bloodworms.  
          “No. I have to figure it out on my own,” Holly told the group. “Professor Lovegood says that if I get help the portrait will know and I’ll get a new riddle. If I guess it right on my own the portrait has agreed to let me through without asking me any other riddles. It’s supposed to be a riddle any first year Ravenclaw can handle,” Holly added, “but if that’s the kind of stuff they find easy, no wonder I’m in Hufflepuff!”  
          She sighed again and pondered the riddle she had been given. _“What question never has the same answer no matter how many times it is asked?”_ the stern librarian in the portrait had asked.  
          “I’ll get it eventually,” Holly assured the group. “Then I’ll never have to listen to Pettigrew again!” Just the thought of the prospect was exciting to Holly.  
          “Uh, Holly?” said Lily softly.  
          “Yes?”  
          “We’re having a tea here after class Thursday. Would you like to come?”  
          “I’d love to come!” said Holly in delight. “Thanks for inviting me! But I’ve got another commitment Thursday afternoon and I really have to be there. Perhaps another time…”  
          “O.K.,” said Lily. She sounded disappointed. Holly resolved to think of some way to make it up to Lily later.  
          “What kind of commitment?” asked Conner curiously knowing full well, as did the other third year students, that there were no classes Thursday afternoon. The bloodworm barrel was nearly full. Lily poured the last of the bone meal over the bloodworms. James used his wand to lift the barrel to the wall where the Professor could properly seal it.  
          Holly hesitated before answering. “Mandatory dueling practice,” she finally said. Professor Lovegood had slipped Holly a note about the practice at dinner.  
          “Dueling?” questioned Taylor in surprise. Everyone knew Holly wasn’t permitted to duel against her classmates. There were no more bloodworms to clean. Taylor leaned back and stretched in relief as he spoke. “What do you duel, suits of armor?”  
          “Something like that,” answered Holly vaguely. She would be dueling against the Auror students, of course, but she wasn’t supposed to talk about that. Holly had been dueling against them ever since her talk with Ravindra. They had praised her improved defensive abilities but it wasn’t the same without Roland. Holly poured her cleaned flobberworms into the barrel and added the rest of Rose’s flobberworms filling the barrel to nearly full. Conner handed Holly the egg whites and she poured that over the top of the flobberworms. Using her wand, Rose moved the barrel to the wall.  
          “Tha’s it!” said Professor Hagrid jubilantly while he sealed the second flobberworm barrel. “I never thought it’d get all done in one night!”  
          “It goes faster with help,” said Holly. “Thanks everyone!”  
          “No problem,” replied Albus. “Thank you, too!”  
          “Why don’ ya use th’ well outside ta get cleaned up while I escort Holly ta her dorm,” Professor Hagrid suggested.  
          “That’s O.K., I’ll take her,” chorused both James and Albus.  
          “No, not tonight,” replied the Professor. “While there aren’t any rules about helping someone serve detention, I think it’s best folks see Holly return ta th’ castle without th’ rest of ya.”  
          “In that case, I suggest you don’t try to clean up any either,” added Rose to Holly. “Then no one will have any doubts you indeed served a detention tonight.” Holly stood, looked down at her slime encrusted clothes and nodded. No one would have any problem guessing what she had been doing all evening.  
          “Well,” she told them. “I guess I’d best be going. Thanks again for all your help and congratulation, Albus.” The group nodded. “I’m ready whenever you are,” Holly told the Professor.  
          “Then let’s go! Close the door when ya leave,” he told the rest of the group. Professor Hagrid unlatched the door. It swung open and Fang charged eagerly in upsetting barrels, bowls, buckets and people!  
          One of the first casualties was the full bowl of egg yolks! Fang’s huge paw landed on the edge of the bowl sending gooey wet yellow balls of yolk all over his leg, chest and flying into the air. The yolks splattered on Holly, Rose, James and the Professor causing thick yellow goo to drip down their clothes. The remaining egg yolks broke on Fang’s shaggy fur coating it a dark yellow color. Fang then proceeded to smear yolk over everyone else as he excitedly moved through the group!  
          “Down, Fang, down!” admonished the Professor loudly but Fang was too busy knocking things over with his wagging tail and licking faces to listen.  
          “Bye!” shouted Holly quickly hurrying out of the hut before Fang got to her... The Professor followed and the two headed down to the lake taking Holly’s new route back to the castle.


	36. Chapter 36

          “Is that Albus?” laughed Eddie Shunpike. The Hufflepuffs were all at their table eating breakfast. Those who had finished early were now leaning back and reading their mail or news brought by the owls.  
          “Yes, I think it is!” replied Clayton Eggleton, laughing as well.  
          “You shouldn’t laugh at people that way!” said Prefect Ben reprovingly.  
          “Sorry,” said Eddie, “but look!” He handed the newspaper to Ben and though he managed to hide the outward signs, Holly instantly felt mirth emanate from Ben.  
          Holly hastily gulping down her last bite of food and said, “Let me see that, please,” Ben handed Holly the paper.  
          The first thing that caught Holly’s eye was a huge moving photo that took up nearly half the front page. It focused on a quidditch player on a broomstick wearing Gryffindor red. A bludger sailed through the air from one side catching the player squarely on the shoulder knocking him off the broom! The scene repeated itself and again and again. The player fell repeatedly off the broom! And yes, the person on the broom was Albus!  
          The headline for the photo read: _Quidditch Practice to Resume_. No names were mentioned in the innocuous article beneath the photo. It merely stated that practice would resume despite the loss of the stadium and repeated some basic facts about the collapse.  
          Holly looked again at the photo. It had to be pretty old as school had barely resumed after the holidays and no one had yet actually begun practicing quidditch. Then Holly read the credits beneath the photo and began to laugh out loud.  
          “What? What is it?” asked Becky besides her.  
          Holly pointed to the tiny writing in the credits and laughed some more.  
          Becky squinted, peered at the credits and read: _Recently cleared of stadium collapse charges, Albus Potter practices for a match. Head_ _mistress McGonagall blames the collapse on an unidentified intruder…_  
          “I don’t get it?” said Becky in confusion.  
          “I think Rita Skeeter has kept her word!” Holly replied and laughed some more.

********************

          “Are you done yet?” asked Becky impatiently.  
          “No, just a bit more time,” answered Mark.  
          “How much more time?” persisted Becky. “We’re gonna be late for class!”  
          “No we won’t,” assured Mark. “We don’t have to leave yet.”  
          Holly sighed. They were in the library helping Mark do research for a paper. Actually, Mark was doing the research; Becky and Holly were sitting around waiting. Mark was writing the paper using Ancient Runes. Becky and Holly were totally clueless when it came to Runes. Waiting around for Mark to check and double check the grammar and spelling was boring to say the least.  
           Mark wasn’t taking Ancient Runes as a class but Professor Lovegood had offered extra credit if students did their work in Runes and Mark had decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He had started studying Runes on his own last year—as something to do while waiting for Holly to finish organ practice in the Room of Requirement.  
          This year, Mark carried his Rune book everywhere and had continued his studies whenever he had to wait. Mark had done a lot of waiting—mostly for Holly—outside the infirmary, outside the Headmistress’s office, in the Room of Requirement, while Holly conducted independent wand practice for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class... (Not that he had done that lately. After the holidays Professor Lovegood had declared Holly again capable of engaging in basic wand practice along with other students in her Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Nor did Mark have to wait during Holly dueling practice as Ravindra always escorted Holly back to the dorms after afterwards.)  
          Like Becky, Holly was bored, but after all the times Mark and Becky had spent waiting around for her, she wasn’t about to complain if Mark wanted her to wait for him.  
          “What time is it now?” asked Becky impatiently a few minutes later.  
          “Not time,” Mark assured her.  
          “Well, what time is it?” she persisted.  
          “It’s a few minutes after the last time you asked,” replied Holly, “whatever that time was.” She had only a most general idea of the hour; her digital watch didn’t work at Hogwarts. Holly usually relied on Mark or Becky to get them to classes on time.  
          “Two, actually,” corrected Mark closing his book.  
          “So is it time now?” asked Becky.  
          “Nope.” The two girls watched as Mark got up and carefully returned the book to the shelf. He returned to his seat and sat down. Then he gathered together all his papers and put away his quill. “Now it’s time,” he announced.  
          “Well, why didn’t you say so before?” exclaimed Becky. “I could have been getting my things ready too.”  
          “Wasn’t time then,” said Mark confidently.  
          “That’s it!” Holly exclaimed suddenly. She scrambled out of her seat, raced through the aisles. Becky and Mark hastily followed. Holly stopped in front of the portrait of the Librarian. She was busy placing books from a cart onto the shelf. “Excuse me,” said Holly to the Librarian. The stern looking lady stopped what she was doing and peered down at Holly through her tiny wire rimmed glasses.  
          “Yes?” she questioned in a forbidding tone.  
          “Do you remember me?” Holly asked politely while trying to contain her excitement.  
          “You’re the Hufflepuff with the problem, are you not?”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” agreed Holly though she didn’t like being thought of as having a “problem.” “And it’s really nice of you to let me use the Ravenclaw passage. Remember that riddle you gave me?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Well, I think I know the answer!”  
          “Indeed!” she replied. “Are you sure?”  
          “Yes, I think so,” replied Holly. “At least, I’d like to try to answer it.”  
          “Very well,” and the Librarian pulled a book off the shelf. She opened the book, adjusted her glasses and began to read, _“What question never has the same answer no matter how many times it is asked?”_  
          Holly took a deep breath. “The question is: What time is it?”  
          “And why would you say that?”  
          “Because time is ever changing and never the same from minute to minute!” replied Holly carefully.  
          “Well reasoned,” said the Librarian approvingly. “And what time is it now?”  
          “Uh,” Holly had no idea. “Time to get to class?”  
          “I should think so,” agreed the Librarian. And the portrait frame swung open revealing a dark passageway behind.  
          “Come on!” said Holly excitedly. She grabbed Becky’s hand walked into the passage.  
          “You do realize,” began Mark as he followed behind. “That our next class is on the first floor and we’re headed for the seventh!”  
          “Well, we’ll just have to hurry,” said Holly resolutely. “I’m not about to back out now—not after I just found the way in!”  
          Mark groaned. “Now we’ll really be late!” he assured them as they hurried up the stairs.  
          “Told you we should have left sooner,” said Becky smugly.  
          “But it wasn’t time then,” protested Mark.  
          “Well, obviously it was,” observed Becky. “You just didn’t know it yet!” And the three continued up the stairs. The passageway narrowed. The walls dripped water and were covered with slime. The steep stairs were somewhat slippery and there wasn’t any handrail but the three continued climbing up and up and up. Finally, they came to what appeared to be a solid stone wall.  
          “Now what?” asked Mark as they examined the wall looking for a lever or some other way to exit. “Did the Ravenclaws tell you anything about how to get _out_ of their passageway?”  
          “Not a word,” replied Holly. She started lifting the torches from their holders. Maybe one of them would cause a door to open…  
          “Maybe there’s a stone you push,” suggested Becky. She chose a likely looking stone in front of her and pushed hard. To everyone’s surprise, she fell right through the wall!  
          “Come on!” exclaimed Mark eagerly to Holly. “It’s like on the station!” Grabbing her hand he walked right through the wall taking Holly with him. Soon the three were standing in a well-lit corridor.    
          Looking back Holly saw a painting of what appeared to be a study: shelves filled with books, a comfy chair, a lit chandelier overhead and a blazing fire nearby. There were no visible people in the painting.  
          The three hurried along the corridor to the stairs and began the long trek down to class.  
          They finally arrived well after class had begun. Professor Lovegood raised her eyebrow curiously but didn’t inquire further when Holly explained that she had been in the library and had been distracted by the “time.” Unfortunately, each student still lost five house points for being late. Holly was also assigned an extra paper to be turned in the next day…   Holly truly regretted the loss of house points but didn’t mind the added work knowing she could finally avoid Pettigrew entirely! On the brighter side, Mark got an extra five house points for using Runes.

 ********************

          “Thank you for coming,” said Professor Lovegood solemnly. It was Thursday afternoon and time for Holly’s dueling practice. The Professor peered at Holly, Becky and Mark through her oversized lavender framed eyeglasses. Her corkscrew earrings dangled gently to and fro as she studied the trio. “There is no need to wait for Miss Wycliff,” she informed Mark and Becky. “I shall see that she gets to her next destination safely…” the Professor assured them. “Yes, ma’am,” said Mark. “See you later,” he added to Holly. Then he and Becky turned to leave.  
          “Have fun!” Becky encouraged Holly as they left. Professor Lovegood closed the classroom door behind them.  
          Holly followed Professor Lovegood to the mirror in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The mirror was actually a door. Behind it was the practice room. Holly watched silently as Professor Lovegood raised her wand and pointed to the mirror. The mirror swung silently open and the two stepped inside…

**_“SURPRISE!!!!!”_ **

          Holly stared in shock at the party trappings that suddenly appeared. Colorful confetti and streamers swirled through the air. A huge banner bearing the words: _Welcome Back!_ hung from the ceiling over a triple layer cake covered with chocolate frosting! Nearby was a huge bowl of popcorn. Standing on either side of the cake stood the three Auror students, and someone else Holly knew from last year! They were all smiling and clapping.  
          “Roland?” said Holly wonderingly when the noise died down. “What are you doing here?”  
          “Special permission,” he replied smiling stepping forward and giving Holly a warm hug. “We figured nobody gave you a proper welcome after your “trip” last summer and we decided to rectify that!”  
          “Trip?”  
          “To Hogwarts and back!” answered Matthew Kirkland cheerfully.  
          “After all, it’s not every day one makes a trip like that,” added Sean Finnegan. “We felt it should be properly acknowledged.”  
          “And appreciated!” added Ravindra warmly coming up to hug Holly too.  
          “So, how was the trip?” asked Matthew.  
          “Um...”  
          “I bet you met lots of new people,” added Sean before Holly had a chance to answer.  
          “And some old,” put in Ravindra. “You saw Mrs. Figg, didn’t you?”  
          “Uh, yes, I did,” said Holly. “Wait a minute, how did you know?”  
          “You sent her a cat tree this summer, remember?” answered Ravindra promptly. “Dead giveaway. I take it you saw her cats too?”  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly, “but only four—Snowball was gone…” And Holly found herself again describing the events of the summer. Her audience was attentive and appreciative. By the time Holly had begun the account of her walk to the station the group had her seated comfy chair with a slice of cake on a plate and a bowl of forever freeze ice cream placed within reach on a small table next to her. The festive attitude grew grim and the popcorn forgotten when Holly described her arrest and subsequent escape.  
          Holly would have glossed over the next part, but Ravindra grabbed her hand firmly and whispered, “It’s O.K., Holly, I want them to know about what happened next…” Then Ravindra dropped her block enabling Holly to sense the sincerity of her words. So Holly described the dementors in the street…  
          When Holly mentioned seeing Roland on duty, Matthew laughed and said, “I heard you were a lady–killer, Roland, I never knew you could stop ‘em dead in their tracks with fear!”  
          “At least I was there to _not_ do anything,” Roland responded good-naturedly. “We all know where you were at the time.  
          “Huh?”  
           “You’re Gryffindor,” reminded Roland. “You would have never stood for the kind of government Lord Voldemort set up. I’m sure it was a noble courageous end,” Roland added, “but you would have still been dead and dead people can’t help anybody.” That sobered Matthew quickly.  
           The group grew thoughtful when Holly mentioned the bag with her name and it’s contents.  
          “Important details left off the Security Alert, a “Non” who recognizes you but doesn’t act and now a bag filled with much needed supplies…” murmured Professor Lovegood in the silence that followed. “Wizard Pilkington was top of his class and is a very resourceful person,” she added. “He would be so in any reality. It would seem that the “Non” wizards were not as submissive as they first appeared…”  
          “Diagon Alley was a bust,” reported Holly continuing her story. She quickly described her visit there and the new Gringotts that had been built.  
          “So what did you do?” questioned Sean.  
          “I went to Cousin Harry’s house,” replied Holly briefly. “He wasn’t there, of course,” she added quickly before anyone could ask for details, “but his house elf, Kreacher took me directly to Hogwarts.” Holly hoped no one knew who previously owned Cousin Harry’s house or what Kreacher used to be like… Then Holly felt a sudden surge of curiosity from Professor Lovegood. _“Of course,”_ thought Holly, _“the Professor probably knew both Kreacher and where Cousin Harry lives.”_ But fortunately, she didn’t speak and Holly continued quickly with her account of walking up to the castle… She even obliged the group by repeating word-for-word what Peter Pettigrew kept whispering in her ear as he took her up the stairs. Everyone was suitably revolted and Professor Lovegood commented serenely that Holly had made a pretty fair imitation of Pettigrew’s voice as well. That caused several raised eyebrows as the Auror students suddenly wondered how Professor Lovegood came to know Pettigrew so well.  
          “So, did he come back with the Headmaster?” asked Ravindra.  
          “No,” replied Holly promptly, “with Lord Voldemort!” That caught everyone by surprise. Holly was glad to skip the part with the Headmaster and knew everyone would be much more interested about Lord Voldemort anyway. But the reaction was not quite what she expected…  
           Matthew turned immediately to Sean and said, “Pay up!”  
          “Huh?” Sean blinked innocently in surprise.  
          “You said if Voldemort ever got his hands on Holly he’d kill her! Well he got his hands on her and she’s still alive so pay up!”  
          “No,” argued Sean. “I said if Lord Voldemort ever found out what Holly was _up to_ and got his hands on her he’d kill her… Obviously he never found out though I haven’t the foggiest idea why!”  
          “Headmaster Snape protected me,” Holly quietly said stopping the banter. Everyone looked back at Holly.  
          “You mean old Sniviling Snape?” questioned Matthew in disbelief.  
          “He was working for Dumbledore, remember?” said Holly coldly. “He still was! Headmaster Snape risked everything to get me to that trophy room,” she told the group. “Everything! Even though he knew it meant he would d-die!” Holly broke down and started to cry.  
          Ravindra moved up and hugged Holly. “Shhh,” she told Holly soothingly. “It’s O.K.”  
          “No, it isn’t,” blubbered Holly. “He’s dead! The kindest, most courageous, most wonderful man I know is dead and everyone here thinks he’s positively horrible! It isn’t fair!” and her sobbing continued.  
          “The Headmaster gave you a wand?” asked Professor Lovegood softly after the tears died down. Holly sniffed and nodded.  
          “And you used it on Pettigrew,” she added completing the story Holly could no longer relate.  
          “He was going to attack from behind,” blurted Holly justifying herself. “Then the Headmaster, he faced off against Lo-Lord Voldemort while I got into the trophy room. I, ah, I don’t know who won…” Holly finished unhappily.  
          “The Headmaster won,” said Professor Lovegood softly, confidently.  
          “For sure?” asked Holly looking up hopefully.  
          “Yes, for sure. You are here only because Lord Voldemort lost.” Then she added, “We are all here together because Lord Voldemort lost. And that wouldn’t have happened were it not for you and … Headmaster Snape.” The group sat in silence while they contemplated a life far different that the one they currently enjoyed.  
          Presently Professor Lovegood spoke again. “I think,” she began softly, “that we should light a candle for Headmaster Snape…” Without a word the six stood up and exited the practice room. They quietly filed out the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and stopping to face the huge painting across the door from the classroom.  
          It was the only painting at Hogwarts that didn’t move and portrayed the moment Harry Potter had cast his final spell against Lord Voldemort. Michael Creevy, a Muggle, whose son, Colin, had died at the Battle of Hogwarts, painted it. Professor Lovegood had once said that the lack of movement was to remind everyone that not only wizards were affected by Lord Voldemort’s rule. After her summer experience, Holly realized more than ever how true that was.  
          Professor Lovegood raised her wand, pointed it at the painting and said:

_“Sometimes you’ve got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes you’ve got to think about the greater good.”_

          She spoke the words of the inscription at the bottom of the painting. Cousin Harry had apparently said them once. _"They were good words to remember,"_ thought Holly. _"Perhaps that was what Headmaster Snape was thinking when he faced off against Lord Voldemort…."_ Speaking the words also caused the whole painting to swing open revealing a secret room beyond.  
          The six entered the room quietly. The frame swung shut behind them enclosing them in velvety blackness. Holly had been there earlier at Halloween to attend the Potter memorial ceremony—in remembrance of their grandparents, James and Lily Potter. It was Lily’s first time in the room. The group had watched silently as Lily gazed in awe at the many sparkles that were really names and then held her tight when she realized the importance of those names. Holly had lit her candle with the rest, but it had been for Sirius Black not the Potters. At the time, her eyes looked for and sought Sirius in that Phoenix photo—Sirius, so handsome, young and confident, so ignorant of the future. Holly had grieved anew at what was and what might have been.  
          Once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Holly moved confidently forward to the sparkly wall. Her fingers readily found and pressed the name she wanted. The shaft of light stopped just above Holly’s head and formed the figure of a familiar person. Holly’s heart leaped at his sight—the piercing black eyes, stringy shoulder length black hair and a hooked nose that stared out defiantly at everyone, everyone except Holly.  
          “His hair had more gray in it,” she told the group softly as the figure turned. “And he was thinner, too. Those eyes, they weren’t so cold, either. They were warm and filled with life. I wanted to save him,” Holly confessed in a whisper. “But he wouldn’t let me. He said I was too young to make decisions like that for others and especially not for him. He was so brave and honorable!” and Holly began to sob again. Ravindra held Holly in her arms.  
          Professor Lovegood reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out some candles. She handed one to each of the students and took one for herself. “Thank you,” she said softly as she lit the first candle. “I’m sorry I never got a chance to know the real you.” The Professor set the burning candle down beneath image. The smoke swirled up gently and mingled with the turning figure.  
          One by one the students lit their candles. “I swear to you,” said Roland as he set his candle down, “your death will not have been in vain. If there are any Dark Wizards out there, we will find them and stop them!” Holly could feel the sincerity of his words. Everyone nodded in agreement and set their lit candles below the image of Severus Snape as well.  
          Holly lit her candle. “You’ll never be forgotten,” she whispered and set the candle with the others. Then she stepped back joining the others. The group stared at the figure of the Headmaster until it exploded in a shower of light which faded away leaving only the candles burning in his memory.  
          One by one the students filed silently out of the room. “I’ll see that Holly gets back to her dorm,” offered Ravindra when they again stood out in the corridor and Professor Lovegood nodded.  
          Holly led Ravindra down to the dungeons. There were several suits of armor standing at attention on each side of the passage. Holly walked up to one and removed the sword from his gloved hand. That caused a trap door to open revealing a short set of stairs leading down. Holly returned the sword to the suit of armor’s hand. Then she and Ravindra descended the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs Holly pushed a lever closing the trap door shutting them in darkness. Lighting her wand, the two continued from there following the passage up to the forth floor.  
          When they stepped out onto the forth floor corridor Ravindra took Holly to library and straight to the portrait of the stern librarian. The librarian peered suspiciously down at the two of them. “You look like a Ravenclaw,” she commented to Ravindra.  
          “I am,” acknowledged Ravindra proudly, “seventh year.”  
          “Very well,” she told Ravindra. Then she pulled down a book, opened it and began to read:

 _"Five hundred begins it, five hundred ends it,_  
_Five in the middle is seen;_  
_First of all figures, the first of all letters,_  
_Take up their stations between._  
_Join all together, and then you will bring_  
_Before you the name of an ancient king."_

 The librarian looked up from her page and stared expectantly at Ravindra.  
          Ravindra closed her eyes. “Five hundred at beginning and end…” she mused thoughtfully. “And five in the middle…” Ravindra opened her eyes and smiled. “I’ve got it! It’s DAVID!”  
          The Librarian’s stern face broke into a smile. “Very good,” she told Ravindra and the portrait frame swung open revealing a dark passage behind…  
          “David?” questioned Holly after they stepped into the passage.  
          “In Roman numerals!” replied Ravindra as if that explained everything. She held up her lit wand and led the way up a narrow set of stairs.  
          “Huh?”  
          “The letter “D” is five hundred in Roman Numerals,” Ravindra explained and the letter “V” is five! And “I” is one in Roman Numeral numbers and “A” is the first in all letters… It was quite easy, really.”  
          “Only if you know your Roman Numerals,” grumbled Holly good-naturedly. “Do you get a different riddle every time?”  
          “Of course not. The Librarian asks all sorts of things depending on which book she picks out," replied Ravindraa. "I’ve gotten questions on logic, geometry, poetry, philosophy, literature, history, all sorts of things.”  
          “But what if you can’t answer it?”  
          “Then I would have to take the regular stairs, of course. But I’ve never had to do that yet. I use the Librarian Passage whenever possible,” Ravindra added proudly. “She keeps me on my toes.”  
          They continued climbing up until they came to the “solid” stone wall. Then Ravindra, thrust her wand straight into the wall and kept on walking. Closing her eyes, Holly followed. When she opened them again she was standing in a well-lit corridor.   
          “How do you get in from this side?” Holly asked curiously while looking at painting of the empty study.  
          “That is something you need not know,” replied Ravindra calmly. Holly nodded. It was their passageway, after all, and the Ravenclaws were just being nice to let her use it.  
          From the seventh floor, the two walked down the stairs to Holly’s dorm on the fifth floor. Conner was right, it was a rather convoluted route, but Holly considered the extra steps well worth it to be free of Pettigrew.  
          Becky was reading a book while waiting for Holly in the common room. Sasha leaped off Becky’s lap and ran to greet Holly. “You O.K.?” Becky asked anxiously as she set down her book. That was when Holly discovered she had been gone all afternoon and much of the evening! It had taken a long time to tell her tale in between the cake and the popcorn.  
          “Fine,” Holly reassured Becky. “But I’m tired. I’ll tell you what happened later.” And Holly swiftly changed her clothes and went to bed.

  ********************

          “Hey, Holly, your dad doesn’t like Harry Potter?” asked Eddie Shunpike.  
          “What?” sputtered Holly in surprise. “Where’d you hear that?”  
          “It’s in the _Prophet_ ,” he answered. “See?” He handed Holly the paper and pointed out the article in question.

_Family Love?_

_Sources close to the family admit that Mr. Wycliff does not like his_  
_cousin, Harry Potter. Given the stormy relationship Harry had with_  
_his Aunt and Uncle, it is likely the feelings are mutual. Why then,_  
_did Mr. Wycliff sign over the guardianship of his daughter Holly to_  
_the Potters? If it wasn’t done for love, then why?_

          Holly stared at the tiny article in disbelief. How had Rita learned about that? She hadn’t even told the Hufflepuffs about dad and Cousin Harry! In fact, only one person she knew of had heard about that… Holly looked up from the paper and over to the Gryffindor table. Her eyes quickly found the sandy hair and head of Conner. He looked up, saw her eyes on him and turned his head swiftly away...  
          “Way to go!” complimented Martina Goyle cheerfully as she passed Holly on her way out of the hall.  
          “Yeah!” agreed Scorpius Malfoy. “Perhaps your Muggle dad has more sense than we thought!”  
          Holly looked around the Great Hall. It seemed as if everyone was looking at her! Those who weren’t looking at here were busy talking with each other—no doubt about her!   Holly scrambled off the bench and bolted from the Hall.  
          “Holly! Holly wait!” called Becky getting off her bench and hastening to follow. “Wait up!” shouted Becky as Holly charged out the front entrance.  
          “No!” replied Holly as she continued to run.  
          “At least let me catch up with you!” pleaded Becky. “Remember your medical!”  
          “I don’t care!” exclaimed Holly without stopping. “Let them send me home! I want to go there anyway!”  
          “Please!”  
          Holly slowed to a stop. Becky’s emotions of worry and concern had become stronger than Holly’s sense of embarrassment, especially with no one else around. “I want to go home!” Holly repeated without looking at Becky, “where people won’t point and talk about me—won’t call me _freak!_ ” Holly spat out that last part as she had heard her father and grandmother do.  
          “You can’t surely think any of us would take something Rita writes seriously?” asked Becky finally catching up stopping besides Holly. “She writes lies all the time to sell her news!”  
          “But that’s just it!” exclaimed Holly swinging around to face Becky. “It isn’t a lie—not this time!”  
          “What?” exclaimed Becky in disbelief.  
          “But your dad and Harry Potte—”  
          “They hate each other!” finished Holly. “They hide it well,” Holly continued explaining, “but when I’m standing between them, it’s like a volcano waiting to explode.”  
          “So if they hate each other, why the guardianship?”  
          “Because my grandparents are ten times worse!”  
          “I can’t believe that.”  
          “It true! They still don’t know I’m going to Hogwarts,” added Holly in a rush. “And dad can’t let them know—ever! Cousin Harry wants me to come to Hogwarts so he gets all the Hogwarts mail to make sure my grandparents don’t find out about me being a witch or Hogwarts!”  
          “Surely you’re exaggerating!” protested Becky. “I mean, my grandparents were a little weirded out by me being a witch and all but they’ve come around…”  
          “Then you’re very lucky,” informed Holly. “Grandmum just saw a photo of me in long hair over the holidays and thought it was her sister Lily, Harry Potter’s mum… The hatred that poured out of her was,” Holly shivered. “It was poisonous!”  
          “But you always wear your hair long…”  
          “Not at home,” Holly told them. “I get it cut and curled just before my grandparents come to visit.”  
          “Seriously?”  
          “Yes, ‘cause otherwise I’d look too much like Aunt Lily. And when my grandparents visit, we all pretend I don’t go to Hogwarts or have a Cousin Harry because it would be just awful if they found out! The rest of time I’m home I don’t talk about the Potters or school in front of dad because he would stress out too much. I mean, of course he knows, but we don’t talk about it.”  
          “I had no idea!” said Becky.  
          “Why should you?” declared Holly. “It’s not as if we sit around talking about our parents! Besides, I love my dad! To talk about the way my dad feels after all Cousin Harry has done would make me sound rude and ungrateful! Cousin Harry saved my life, welcomed me into his family and has never said a single unkind thing against my dad. And now everyone will think horrible things about Cousin Harry and my father!”  
          “Who cares what they think,” said Becky staunchly. “It’s none of their business anyway!”  
          “No, it isn’t,” agreed Holly, “but now they know anyway!”  
          “That can’t be helped,” consoled Becky. “I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it.”  
          “We?”  
          “Of course! You’re my friend, aren’t you? You won’t have to face this alone. Come on, let’s get to class.”  
          “O.K.,” sighed Holly. She turned and took a step back towards the castle.  
_"You just come along with me, Missy,”_ a cheerful voice whispered in Holly’s ear. Holly stopped promptly and took a step backwards.  
          “Uh, Becky,” she began hesitantly. “Do you mind if we go by way of the docks?”  
          “No problem,” she replied.   And the two headed down to the lake instead.

********************

          “Five points from Hufflepuff,” said Professor Trelawney serenely when Holly and Becky finally arrived. They were late; the new route took ever so much longer to traverse. Then, as Holly and Becky took their seats next to Mark the Professor added, “You should never let yourself become affected by the trials of the outside world.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” mumbled Holly meekly. She ducked her head down trying to make herself smaller and less noticeable. The Professor’s words were a sure indication that everyone in the room knew exactly why Holly had arrived late... Holly hastily pulled out a quill and paper to start on the class work. Mark whispered that they were all trying to draw their own palm lines.  
          “When you finish your map,” said the Professor calmly, “pass it to the table on your left. Then turn to page 64 of your book and write an analysis of the lines you see.” Those students who were finished obediently passed their pages to the next table.  
          A palm print map was passed to Holly. It had the words “I’m sorry!” scrawled across the top; it clearly came from Conner. Holly ignored the writing and traded maps with Mark so she wouldn’t have to look at the apology. The damage was done and it didn’t matter how he felt. Holly completed her own map and then dug out the text to write an analysis of Martina Goyle’s palm print. As near as Holly could figure, Martina was going to have a long life or a lot of children or was that prosperity and no health? Martina didn’t draw her lines too clearly…

********************

          “Holly, wait up!” Conner said after Divination class. Holly had rushed out with Becky and Mark as soon as she could to avoid all the other students but Conner had hurried after them.  
          “Leave me alone!” Holly told Conner.  
          “Holly, let me explain,” pleaded Conner still following after them.  
          “It doesn’t matter,” Holly retorted sharply. “You talked; they listened. What’s there to explain?”  
          “But it wasn’t like that at all!” protested Conner. “I didn’t say a thing about your dad and Harry Potter,” he insisted. “Honest!”  
          “Go read your comics!” suggested Becky coldly and she took Holly’s arm urging her forward. The three, Mark included, turned their backs on him and continued walking.  
          “But that’s just what I did!” exclaimed Conner. “You’re supposed to be an Empath, Holly!” pleaded Conner. “You know I’m telling the truth!”  
          Abruptly Holly wheeled around. “All, right, Conner,” she said impatiently. “Tell me what happened!”  
          “I was sitting in the _Three Broomsticks_ reading and enjoying a Butterbeer when this guy came up to me,” began Conner. “Hey, Fitzpatrick,” he said to me. I hear you’re dating that Wycliff girl!”  
          “No I’m not!” I told him. “And he said he heard I’d been walking you to your dorm at night. And I said that was only once because the professor told me to! And he laughed with one of those knowing kind of smirks like he didn’t believe a word I had said and replied, “Oh, that’s the way it is, you’re keeping it a secret?” “There’s no secret,” I told him, “I’m not seeing her!” “Yeah, right!” he said as he laughed again and then he said, “And I suppose you were helping her with her detention just to be nice? Eh?” “Yeah!” I told him. “That’s all!” “So why all the secrecy?” he asked ignoring everything I had just said. “You afraid her dad will find out? I hear he doesn’t like wizards. That true?” “What?” I protested. “That’s got nothing to do with this!” And I told him he’d better not be repeating lies like that and he laughed again and said “Mum’s the word! I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with her dad!” and with that he walked off! I swear, Holly,” Conner finished, “I didn’t tell him a thing! But I didn’t deny anything either and I guess I should have.”  
          “Never mind,” sighed Holly. “That was the flimsiest confirmation I’ve ever heard of. But then I guess Rita doesn’t need much to write a story…”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Conner. “I didn’t think anything of the encounter until I heard Albus wonder what “source close to the family” had talked to _The Prophet_ and then read the article. I’m sorry, Holly,” he added. “You guys warned me; I guess I should have listened better… It’s just that I was caught off guard; nobody ever talks to me and I was so busy trying to deny that part about us going together that I didn’t think about what else was being said.” Conner paused for a breath and then added, “I’ve got to make this right somehow,” he began. “I could contact the _Prophet_ and –”  
          “And tell them what?” interrupted Mark. “That you were inaccurately quoted? Good luck. Your name wasn’t mentioned so technically that information could have come from anywhere. That little conversation you described could have just been a coincidence though I doubt it. Sounds more like you were set up.”  
          “So what can I do?”  
          “Behave like a Potter,” sighed Holly glumly. “Act as if the article is of no importance and hope she writes something else tomorrow… Come on,” she added. “Let’s get to class.”


	37. Chapter 37

          Rita did write something else the next day, but nothing Holly wanted to read. Holly knew she was in for a bad day the moment she arrived to the Great Hall for breakfast. Shirley Ogg got up to leave and sidled up to Holly on her way out—“If you mention a word about this to anyone you will _regret_ it!” she promised venomously.  
 _“About what?”_ wondered Holly as she sat down to eat. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Clayton eagerly handed Holly the morning news smothering a laugh as he did… Plastered on the front page was a photo of Shirley and a tall smiling man with blond hair. The two leaned back and forth against each other affectionately. Beneath it, the headline read:

_Wizard Ogg Volunteers!_

Holly read on:

 _Renown Genealogist Wizard Ogg contacted_ _The Daily Prophet_ _yesterday with an amazing offer. He told the Prophet_  
 _that “Although I cannot understand the reasons why anyone would choose to assign guardianship of their beloved_  
 _daughter to a someone else, I cannot bear to think that the assignment was made to someone the father personally_  
 _dislikes. Therefore I offer myself as an alternative. I have an impeccable background with no criminal stains. The_  
 _Wycliffs are welcome to use me as their daughter’s guardian. My daughter would love to have a sister in the family…”_

_The Daily Prophet regrets that Wycliff parents could not be contacted to obtain their response to this generous offer._   
_Nor was Miss Holly Wycliff permitted to respond. Current wizard guardian Harry Potter refused to comment._

No longer hungry, Holly sank down in her seat and tried to hide from all the eyes she was certain were looking at her.  
          “Sorry,” said Prefect Gwen solemnly taking the paper and handing it to Becky and Mark to read.  
          “This isn’t funny!” protested Holly sensing the amusement behind Gwen’s warm brown eyes.  
         “I know,” Gwen agreed, “but the thought of you and Shirley being _sisters!_ ” Several Hufflepuffs, Gwen included, suddenly burst into smothered laughter.  
          Holly groaned and tried to sink down even lower. Her only consolation was the knowledge that Shirley found the idea of them being “sisters” just as odious as she did.

********************

          The next day, a great horned owl dropped a letter at Holly place. Holly stared at the letter in amazement. No one but her parents or Vernon ever wrote Holly and those letters came by Becky’s owl Skyler. Even more surprising was when three more owls swooped low and dropped letters in front of Holly. Then two more arrived also carrying letters… Holly picked up one and eyed it curiously.  
          “Who’s it from?” asked Becky as three more owls dropped letters in front of Holly.  
          “It doesn’t say,” replied Holly. She turned the letter over and broke the bright green seal on the back. There was another letter inside, addressed to her parents and a piece of parchment bearing her name. Holly unfolded the parchment and read the words within.

_Dear Miss Wycliff,_

_My name is Graham Pritchard. I would like to offer my services as your legal guardian_   
_for the duration of your time at Hogwarts. I know we have never met, but I can assure_   
_you that I am honest, trustworthy and very responsible. In addition, most Muggles find_   
_me quite pleasant. Would you please forward my qualifications to your parents for their_   
_consideration._

_Sincerely,_

_Graham Prichard_

Without a word, Holly handed the letter to Becky. She picked up one of the other letters and opened it. It was from somebody named Malcolm Baddock.  
          Becky skimmed through Graham’s letter quickly. “It’s a resume!” she said in surprise and handed it to Mark.  
          “For what?” asked Ben who was sitting across the table from the three.  
          “Legal guardian,” said Holly numbly and she handed the second letter to Ben to read.  
          “Legal guardian?” questioned Gwen. “Of whom?” She reached out and took the letter Mark had just finished reading.  
          “Me,” replied Holly feeling extremely self-conscience. She handed out the rest of the letters to various Hufflepuff students to open for her. She didn’t even want to look at them.  
          “What’s wrong with Harry Potter?” asked Lynette anxiously while she stared at a piece of parchment that blinked brightly blue and gold.  
          “Nothing,” replied Holly.  
          “It looks like they’re all offers with resumes,” announced Ben as he passed around the now opened letters to the rest of the Hufflepuffs at the table. The Hufflepuffs shared just about everything.  
          “Some of them are from pretty prominent wizards, too,” Donna MacMillan added as she passed on one of the letters to Eddie Shunpike. “I recognize the names.”  
          “Why does everyone want to be my guardian?” questioned Holly feeling like a prize pig put up for auction.  
          “Well, you’re an Empath,” commented Alex Buchanan thoughtfully. “That’s pretty special. Maybe it’s a status thing…”  
          “I bet Rita put them up to it,” guessed Rupert. “She’s been trying for two years to get an interview with you. Maybe she thinks a different guardian could be easier to persuade.” He returned the letters to Holly.  
          “What’ll I do with them?” asked Holly placing the letters gingerly on the table in front of her. Besides the blue and gold one, another letter was flashing the words: “Cheerful, Honest, Reliable” over and over in neon colors. A third one, still sealed bearing the name Mr. and Mrs. Wycliff, was rattling and a fourth was expanding and contracting on the table like a balloon as if anxious to be opened…    
          “Forward them on to your parents,” suggested Marcy.  
          “I couldn’t do that!” exclaimed Holly. “That would be like saying I want another guardian. And I don’t, I mean Cousin Harry is just fine with me if I must have a guardian… Besides, these letters are,” Holly shivered at a loss for words. “I couldn’t send stuff like this to my dad, ever!”  
          “So destroy them,” suggested Eddie. “Your parents need never know.”  
          “I can’t do that either,” worried Holly. “They’re addressed to my parents; they’re not mine to destroy, not really.”  
          “Why don’t you send them to your Cousin,” suggested Gwen. “He _is_ your guardian, after all. This kind of thing should be his problem not yours.”  
          “That’s true,” mused Holly. And she stuffed all the envelopes and papers into her bag to repackage and send to Cousin Harry later.

********************

          “Look! There’s a parking place right in front!” exclaimed Laurel Wycliff excitedly.  
          “Hummph,” grumbled Dillon. “They were probably smart enough to leave before the fog took over!”  
          Laurel looked around. The fog did seem to be rolling in. It was late in the year for fog, but not unheard of. At least she _hoped_ it was regular fog. Laurel suddenly shivered remembering the creepy fog that had rolled in around them at Little Winging after Harry Potter had arrived to rescue Holly and Vernon.  
          Dillon pulled his car into the space and parked the car. Laurel took the Parking Permit from her purse, placed it on the dash and then got out. Dillon locked the doors.  
          “Where to next?” he growled while pulling his coat up higher against the chill of the fog.  
          Laurel briefly consulted the directions and map she had in her possession. “We take the Health Circuit Walking Trail and head towards Iverforth House,” she told Dillon and looked around for some signs. “That way,” she pointed having easily located a sign with an arrow labeled: Health Circuit Walking Trail.  
          “Well, let’s get on with it!” Dillon muttered grumpily and started towards the trail. Laurel hastily followed.  
          It had been a while since Laurel had lasted visited Hampstead Heath and she certainly never imagined she would go there for a meeting with Harry Potter. Mr. Potter had sent a brief letter requesting the meeting specifying both the time and location. Along with it had come the map and parking pass. Dillon hadn’t wanted to come, but Laurel insisted they agree reasoning Harry would have never contacted them without good cause.  
          Laurel had worried that they would have difficulty locating Mr. Potter amidst all the people that frequented the Heath, but as they walked she realized that would not be a problem. Laurel saw no one on the wooded pathway, no one at all, which seemed terribly odd.  
          Before she could consider the cause of the unusual absence of people, Laurel saw a light off to one side. It wasn’t yet dark, but the light shone strangely bright against the foggy surroundings. When they neared, she realized it came from a flickering flame of a lit kerosene lamp. The lamp had been placed on a picnic table. Odd. Laurel didn’t remember picnic tables in this part of the Heath. Harry Potter was seated at the table. His face was clearly illuminated by the light of the lamp.  
          Harry stood immediately upon their arrival. Today he wore a gray overcoat that protected his plain gray suit. It seemed a bit damp, no doubt from all the fog. “Hello, Dillon, Laurel,” he said quietly. “Thank you so much for coming.”  
          “What’s this all about?” asked Dillon bluntly.  
          “Won’t you have a seat?” asked Harry ignoring Dillon’s question.  
          Laurel immediately sat at the table and pulled Dillon down with her. The table and seat were both slightly damp but she didn’t worry about that now. When they were settled, Harry sat down on the other side.  
          “Well?” demanded Dillon.  
          “I’ve something to give you,” replied Harry in his quiet voice. He reached into his pocket, pulled out an ordinary long plain white envelope and handed it to Dillon. Dillon stared at the envelope suspiciously. It was addressed to Mr. Wycliff in a very neat cursive script.  
          “A letter?” he said blankly. “You could have sent it to us!”  
          “Not this letter,” said Harry solemnly while staring at the two intently through his glasses. “It’s from a reporter,” he told them. “A, w-ah, one of us,” he admitted uncomfortably. Dillon dropped the envelope onto the table like it was a hot potato. “She’s been trying to get an interview with you for over two years,” Harry added explaining further.  
          “Rita?” asked Laurel faintly. She vaguely remembered the name Holly had mentioned over the holidays. Dillon looked at her in surprise. Laurel had never mentioned the reporter to him.  
          Harry flicked a glance briefly at Laurel and then nodded. “Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “I told her to put the request in writing and I would forward it to you.”  
          “Why didn’t you just tell her, “No?” demanded Dillon.  
          “I’m not in the habit of opening other people’s mail,” replied Harry in a mild tone, “so I’m only guessing at the contents of this letter. I made that suggestion quite some time ago; this letter could be about anything.”  
          “Oh,” said Dillon uncertainly. “That it?” he questioned as he gingerly took the envelope with two fingers and rose from his seat clearly intending to leave.  
          “I, ah, would appreciate it if you opened the letter here,” said Harry calmly while not rising.  
          “Why?” demanded Dillon suspiciously as he reluctantly sat down again.  
          Harry stared intently at Dillon and then looked away. “I don’t trust her!” he said bluntly. “Rita’s been very persistent and I don’t think it would be wise if anything of hers ever came near your house…”  
          “Oh,” Dillon looked again at the very innocent appearing envelope. “Well, I wasn’t planning on keeping it…” His voice trailed off. Knowing Dillon, he probably intended to toss the letter in the nearest trash and be done with it but Laurel knew he would never admit that to Harry, not after Harry had gone to so much trouble to give it to him.  
          “I want to see for myself what happens with that letter,” insisted Harry. “Make sure nothing—” he broke off. “I’ll step away so you can look at it in private,” Harry announced suddenly and rose abruptly from his seat.  
          “That isn’t necessary,” mumbled Dillon. But Harry took a step backward and continued to move away until he stood next to a tree a few meters from the table.  
          Left alone with the letter Dillon stared at it apprehensively. He looked over at Harry uncertainly and then, with trembling fingers, broke the seal and lifted the flap. Laurel peered over Dillon’s shoulder and saw a plain white piece of paper within. Dillon withdrew the paper, unfolded it and stared at the writing. Laurel looked too.  
          After a while Dillon looked up at Harry. “It says that she will pay us 100£ to do an interview,” he said in a wondering sound of voice while rubbing the paper back and forth thoughtfully between his fingers.  
          “If she says so,” replied Harry noncommittally.  
          “And that you would be willing to make all the arrangements, any place any time of my choosing…” Dillon added in a tone of disbelief.  
          Laurel saw a flicker of surprise cross Harry’s face. She doubted that Rita had consulted Harry about that. “If that’s what you wish,” Harry replied in a calm sounding voice neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Rita’s words. A silence followed. Laurel looked at her husband in surprise. He looked as if he was actually considering the offer…  
          “Uh, would you—”  
          “My daughter tells me that this Rita has twice accosted her in an attempt to get an interview,” interrupted Laurel loudly. “Is this true?”  
          Harry looked at Laurel. “Yes,” he admitted without elaboration.  
          “And that she threatened to make a major commotion in a public location if you did not grant her an interview. Is that true?”  
          “Yes,” he agreed softly.  
          “Then it seems to me that this is not the sort of woman we want to grant any interview money or not! Right, dear?”  
          “Uh…”  
          Laurel nudged her husband, “Right?” she insisted demanding a response from Dillon.  
          "Uh, right,” answered Dillon automatically but his voice was dreamy and he was clearly still thinking about the offer.  
          “I’ll pass the word on,” replied Harry calmly.  
          “Now, if that’s all,” said Laurel, “I think we’d best get going.” She grabbed Dillon’s elbow and started to rise. There was something _off_ about Dillon and she wanted to get him alone in private to find out what.  
          “Actually,” spoke up Harry. “There is one more thing…” He stepped forward and placed a rather large unsealed manila envelope on the table. Laurel could see it was filled with other, sealed envelopes.  
          “What’s this?” she asked curiously.  
          Dillon shook his arm free of Laurel’s grasp. While still holding Rita’s letter with one hand, he reached out with the other, grabbed the manila envelope by a corner and tipped the contents onto the table. An assortment of envelopes fell out, some brightly colored and one which seemed to wheeze in and out continually.  
          Harry sat down at the table before answering. He waited for Laurel and Dillon to sit down as well. “They’re resumes,” he said finally.  
          “Resumes?” echoed Laurel in surprise. “Why?” There was a long silence before Harry finally responded. And then he didn’t speak but instead pulled out a piece of paper, a clipping cut from a newspaper and handed it to Laurel. The headline read: _Wizard Ogg Volunteers!_ Laurel read on with disbelief. “What is all this about?” she asked looking up at Harry.  
          Harry looked down before he spoke, clearly uncomfortable. “Rita reported that uh, Dillon and I were not on the best of terms. Other wizards in the community have decided I cannot possibly be serving Holly’s best interest if Dillon and I don’t get along…”  
          “What business of theirs is it?” demanded Laurel horrified that their private lives seemed to have been discussed throughout the wizard community.  
          “None,” agreed Harry vehemently, “but that doesn’t stop Rita if it’ll sell newspapers.  
          “What have you done about this?”  
          “Nothing,” he admitted softly while looking down and away.  
          “Why not?”  
          “What would you have me do?” Harry asked looking directly at Laurel. “The first part is true and the rest, well, it’s not my decision to make…”  
          “Oh,” whispered Laurel thoughtfully. Harry was right, of course. But to have to sit back silently while stuff like this was printed in the news, Laurel shuttered at the thought. “What do you think of all this?” she asked forcing herself to sound calm.  
          “I think,” began Harry, then stopped, took a breath and tried again. “I think I pushed Dillon into letting Holly go to Hogwarts and when this crazy guardianship stuff happened, he didn’t know of anyone else to ask.” Harry spoke quickly as if anxious to get the words out before he changed his mind. “Dillon didn’t know it would be like this, none of us did,” Harry added softly, a hollow note sounding in his voice. “Perhaps, if there was someone else, someone he liked better, it wouldn’t be so stressful…” Harry’s voice died away and looking at him, Laurel could see uncertainty in his face. Rita’s article had done more than invade their privacy, it had been a personal attack on Harry: his character, judgment and the decisions he had made on their behalf!  
          Harry looked down again. “You, uh, don’t have to decide today,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t even have to be one of these people,” he continued looking at the letters scattered on the table, “or a wi-one of us, for that matter. The Smiths, perhaps,” he suggested. “They’re responsible and they’d gladly do it for Holly—anyone would. She’s a wonderful girl and deserves the best…”  
          Harry stood up. “I’ll give you and Dillon a moment to talk in private,” he told Laurel. “These letters, I think they’re safe to take home with you to review later if you wish, but not Rita’s.” he added indicating the letter still held in Dillon’s hand.  
          Laurel looked over at Dillon. He had sat quietly throughout the exchange with this bemused look on his face. It was definitely not like Dillon at all! As Harry moved away, Laurel made up her mind quickly. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Potter,” she said formally. Harry froze; he turned and looked at her. “We are not interested in seeking a new guardian for Holly,” Laurel told him firmly. “I’m sure these other people are highly qualified and totally respectable but Holly has never expressed one word against you as her guardian nor has Dillon for that matter. They both trust you and so, I guess, do I,” she confessed. “You and Dillon don’t get along,” Laurel admitted, “but you’re still family and that’s more important.”  
          Harry gave a brief bow of acknowledgement. “As you wish,” he told her softy and when Harry looked at her uncertainty was gone from his face and he seemed more confident than before.  
          “As for these other letters,” Laurel continued looking dubiously at the envelopes on the table, especially the one that wheezed back and forth, “I’d rather you keep them at your place, file them or something, but I doubt we’ll ever need them…” They may be “safe” to take into her house, but Laurel wanted nothing to do with them.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Harry meekly. He reached out and returned the letters to the manila envelope. “Uh, Dillon?” he added and indicated the letter still in his hand. Laurel looked at Dillon and the letter he seemed unwilling to part with. Suddenly she snatched the letter from his fingers and ripped it in two! “We are not getting an interview with that lady ever!” she told Dillon fiercely. How dare that woman publicize their private lives and then try to bribe them into an interview!  
          Abruptly the pieces of the letter flew out of her fingers and rejoined into one smooth piece of paper. Then it folded itself into thirds and flew directly in front of Harry. He blinked in surprise dropping the manila envelope back on the table and took a step backwards.  
          “HOW DARE YOU DESTROY MY LETTER!” letter accused! “THIS INTERVIEW WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD FOR THEM—MADE THEM FAMOUS! RICH! IMPORTANT! WHO ARE YOU TO BUTT INTO THEIR LIVES LIKE THAT! YOU’VE NO RIGHT!!! JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL I TELL THE OTHER WIZARDS HOW YOU INTERFERED! YOU’LL BE SORRY!”  
           Then the letter swooped towards Laurel and Dillon stopping a few centimeters front of Dillon’s face. He scrambled off the bench to get away from it but the letter followed. It flew past Dillon stopping again directly in front of his face! Dillon yelped and frantically backed away. The back of his legs hit the bench; he fell onto it and twisted his head and upper body back against the table leaning as far away as possible in an effort to keep his distance from the letter.  
          “How could you turn down such an opportunity Mr. Wycliff?” the letter asked in a syrupy sweet voice totally unlike its earlier voice. Laurel could see a pair of green eyes inked on the upper part of the fold and a pair of red lips on the center of the folded letter. Neither had been there before! The flap moved up and down as words issued from the letter. “You’ll be famous, Mr. Wycliff! More than famous!” the letter assured Dillon. “Everyone wants to meet the parents of Holly Wycliff! There’s only one girl like Holly. And she has only one set of parents! That’s you! Our readers want to know everything about you and your family. Your likes, dislikes, where you take vacations… What was it like raising such a talent?” the voice continued persuasively. “Think of it! You’ll be so well known that people will flock to your place of business just for autographs! Sales will go up! You’ll be rich! You could even write a book! Tell the world of your experiences; make millions! And it all starts with a single … tiny … little interview. Won’t you say, “Yes?” Please? I’d be ever so grateful…” The letter floated still closer to Dillon’s face and the eyes seemed to flutter coquettishly at him.  
          In contrast, Dillon’s eyes seemed to bug out in terror! His lips trembled and one hand slowly reached up from the bench—“GET AWAY FROM ME!” he burst suddenly and his hand batted the letter away like a tennis ball!  
          “Humph!” the letter said in a disappointed sounding voice. Then the letter suddenly made a loud rattlely sound—and tore itself up into several tiny pieces! That was a “raspberry!” Laurel suddenly realized as she watched the bits of paper drift in the air landing all over the table and ground! Dillon tried to jump back further in an attempt to avoid the papers but couldn’t being already blocked by the table. Instead, he landed his hand squarely on the packet containing resumes. A loud “Whump” sounded and then the strands of “God save the Queen” could be easily heard coming from the letters inside… Dillon hastily withdrew his hand from the table and falling forwards onto the ground, successfully managed to scramble away from the table.  
          “I,” began Dillon breathing heavily as he slowly stood up on his feet, his face seemed a mottled purple and red colour, his hands had bits of damp leaves stuck to them. “I don’t want that, that _lady_ ” he spit out that word with total venom, “to ever come near us!” Laurel smiled inwardly. That sounded more like her Dillon! “Do you understand?” he demanded of Harry. Harry nodded silently.  
          Laurel thought she could see a gleam of approval in his eyes. From the stories Holly had told, Laurel knew Harry didn’t like Rita and guessed he would be happy to oblige.  
         “And as for that other,” Dillon continued looking apprehensively at the package of letters on the table, one of which was still merrily playing “God Save the Queen,” “I don’t want to be bothered by that either!” Dillon took a deep breath. “If any of _your lot_ ever writes us again, _you_ take care of it!” he ordered Harry.  
          “But dear,” protested Laurel mildly, “don’t you think that’s giving Harry too much responsibility? After all, if it’s not about Holly, shouldn’t we—”  
          “You’re the one who said we trusted him!” reminded Dillon decisively. “Now either we do or we don’t! Besides, there shouldn’t be anything that comes to him that isn’t about Holly,” he told Laurel, “and if there is, well, he can summarize the contents and send that to us if he must but I don’t want any wi— of _that kind_ of mail landing on our front door ever! Come on!” he told Laurel grabbing her arm roughly. “Let’s get out of here!” Without so much of a “good-bye” Dillon hustled Laurel away from the table and Harry.  
          “Mr. Potter!” said Laurel suddenly and she pulled Dillon to a stop.  
          “Yes?”  
          “You pushed Dillon into approving Hogwarts,” she felt a reassuring twinge from Dillon at the mention of the name “Hogwarts.” Yes, he was back to normal! “But Dillon pushed the guardianship onto you!” And he had, Laurel recalled, telling Harry it was “his school, his responsibility!” “Now that there are choices available,” continued Laurel aloud, “perhaps you no longer wish to be Holly’s guardian…” especially if it came with dealing any and all mail that came to them too! But Laurel didn’t add that part.  
          Harry seemed to draw himself up straight and tall. “Dillon did not _push_ me to become Holly’s guardian,” he corrected. “He “asked” and I agreed.” As he spoke, Laurel suddenly decided it would be very difficult to force Harry Potter to do anything he did not wish to do. “Holly has never been an _obligation_ ,” continued Harry firmly. “She’s family and as such I willingly do all I can to help her.” He stared straight into Laurel’s eyes and she stared back. Laurel could only find total sincerity within those eyes.  
          “Thank-you,” said Laurel quietly. He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Good-bye,” Laurel added over her shoulder and she let Dillon drag her onto the pathway back towards the car.

********************

          The fog thinned around the picnic table. The light from the kerosene lamp seemed to shine more brightly as the evening turned to night. Bits of torn paper lying on the ground fluttered gently in response to a light breeze. Gradually, the bits of paper seemed to glow. They grew brighter and brighter until suddenly a shaft of light seemed to explode out of each piece! The many slender beams of light shot straight into the air like miniature torches. Then they bent towards each other as if drawn by a magnet. Once they touched the lights twisted together and moved upwards making a single thick beam like a spotlight illuminating the sky. For a full minute the bright light continued to emanate skyward. Abruptly the light vanished. The bits of paper had turned to ash. Only the light from the kerosene lamp remained; it seemed very dark and dim in comparison.  
          Suddenly a loud _“crack!”_ could be heard and a lady appeared next to the table. She wore a light colored business suit and skirt both tailored perfectly to fit her trim body. A pillbox hat neatly sat on her head covering her perfectly coiffed hair. Dainty ringlets peeked out from under the hat. She quickly smoothed out her jacket and skirt and then reached into her purse, a faux alligator skin purse, pulling out a notebook and pen. When the lady finished, she straightened and looked around. She frowned as she walked towards the table. “Boris!” she called out loudly, “Boris I need y—”  
          “They’re not here,” interrupted Harry Potter stepping away from the shadows and the tree behind which he had been standing. Hermione had, of course, cast a spell on the departing Wycliffs to discourage tracking but Harry would rather not see it tested just in case someone found a way around it…  
          The lady jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice. “Ah, Harry Potter!” she blustered. “What are you doing here?”  
          “Waiting for you, Rita,” Harry replied calmly for the lady in the business suit was indeed Rita Skeeter. “What are _you_ doing here?”  
          “My job, of course,” replied Rita. “Where are they?” she asked in a business-like tone.  
          “They’re gone,” repeated Harry firmly, “and they said “No.”  
          “So it would seem,” agreed Rita petulantly.  
          “What was on the paper?” asked Harry in a conversational voice.  
          “Just a touch of “greed,” and a bit of “agreement,” replied Rita. “Not much, of course, it doesn’t take much with Muggles, but enough to make him more receptive to my offer…”  
          “You cheated,” accused Harry flatly.  
          “Oh, it did no lasting harm and would have worn off eventually,” replied Rita scornfully with a toss of her head, “and I would have had my interview!”  
          “With me making the arrangements?”  
          “I thought that was a nice touch,” Rita purred, “especially after all the runaround you’ve been giving me. If you cried “foul” everyone would have seen the money I was paying them and thought it was just sour grapes on your part!” She looked briefly around and then asked curiously, “What broke the spell?”  
          Harry stared at her stonily and then replied, “They didn’t like that howler you sent.”  
          “Of course not,” Rita replied impatiently, “but that would have happened only _after_ the spell was broken… So, what happened? I figured you’d be too proud to speak against me and if you did, his hatred for you would only strengthen his resolve to have an interview…”  
          Harry stared coldly at Rita considering whether to answer or not. “You apparently haven’t made much of an impression on Holly,” he finally replied, “and _she_ talks to her parents…”  
          “Oh,” said Rita thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”  
          “There isn’t going to be a “next time,” stated Harry firmly. “They said “no!” he reminded her.  
          “They can always change their minds,” replied Rita dismissively, “and I’ll be there when it happens!”  
          “Leave them alone, Rita,” Harry pleaded softly. “Leave _me_ alone.”  
          “Can’t do that, Harry dear,” said Rita crisply, “I’ve a paper to sell.” With that, Rita Apparated vanishing with another loud _“crack”_ leaving Harry alone on the Heath.  
          Harry sighed. He hadn’t expected Rita to give up but he had to try. He walked over to the table and bent over the chimney of the lamp. With a single puff Harry blew out the light. He stood quietly for a moment waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then Harry picked up the lamp and took a step back. Using his wand, he pointed it at the table and muttered a few words returning the table to its original shape of an iron bench with two logs placed in front. After checking one last time to insure that no one was around Harry Apparated home.


	38. Chapter 38

          The soft knock on the door to her office caused Minerva McGonagall to put down her quill and raise her head. “Enter,” she commanded. The door swung open. Madam Pomfrey and Holly Wycliff stood in the doorway. “Come in,” Minerva invited and stood to greet them. All the professors were engaged in instruction and this was not a matter for other students. Knowing Holly had just been pulled out of Herbology and Professor Longbottom’s class tended get students messy, Minerva had suggested Madam Pomfrey make sure Holly had a chance to clean-up and change before arriving. She was pleased to note Holly had decided to dress in her formal robe and House colors. Holly and Madam Pomfrey stepped inside and the office door swung gently shut behind them. Holly’s eyes were already fixed on a point behind Minerva no doubt looking at a certain portrait there. Minerva wondered briefly if Snape had ever had this much attention when alive…  
          “This is Witch Millicent Bulstrode,” Minerva said introducing the other witch in the room. Millicent had also stood at their arrival. She was a tall heavy-set witch with stern features. Her graying black hair was tied back in a tight bun and her overall appearance was rather grim. “Witch Bulstrode is a clerk at the Ministry of Magic,” Minerva added continuing her introduction. “She’s come to escort Miss Wycliff to the Ministry and back.”  
          “The Ministry?” questioned Madam Pomfrey in surprise. “Why?”  
          “It seems,” began Minerva, “that the wizards at Child Services wish a moment with Miss Wycliff.”  
          “Child Services?” echoed Madam Pomfrey. “Whatever for?”  
          “Unfortunately,” continued Minerva dryly, “that information was not made available to me. I’ve only received an official summons requiring Miss Wycliff’s immediate presence at the Ministry.” The two of them turned and looked expectantly at Millicent.  
          “They just want to ask a few questions,” Millicent replied smoothly in her gravelly sounding voice, “and then I’m to return her before dinner. I’m sure it’s nothing serious or they would have told me.”    
          Minerva frowned. The whole situation was very disquieting indeed. Not only was it unheard of to pull students out of school to attend to Ministry matters, but to fail to provide the Headmistress with an explanation was exceedingly unusual.  
          “Perhaps I should come too,” suggested Madam Pomfrey immediately. Minerva could tell she was worried about Holly traveling with a stranger, especially one who didn't know about her flashbacks.  
          “That won’t be necessary,” informed Millicent primly. “I am totally capable of escorting one student to and from the Ministry without mishap. Besides, I have very specific instructions to bring Miss Wycliff and Miss Wycliff only,” she added firmly.  
          “You won’t leave her alone?” Madam Pomfrey asked worriedly.  
          “No,” sighed Millicent rolling her eyes upwards, “I won’t leave her alone, I promise. I have very clear instructions about that,” she added impatiently. Minerva had made sure Millicent was clear about staying with Miss Wycliff at all times. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into trouble…” Millicent didn’t know it was a medical directive and thought it was just some Hogwarts rule for students off campus during school hours… Minerva wondered about trying to explain more but Millicent was not the type to inspire confidences. Hopefully, the directive would only prove to be a minor inconvenience.  
          “Come along,” Millicent said to Holly grabbing her hand in the process. “We don’t want to be late, do we?” she asked rhetorically. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can get you back! Good-bye, Headmistress.” And Millicent swept out of the room taking Holly with her.  
          “Will she be all right?” asked Madam Pomfrey worriedly.  
          “Of course,” answered Minerva with more confidence than she felt. “It’s just a visit to the Ministry. No harm can come in that.”  
          “True,” agreed Madam Pomfrey, “but what is it all about?”  
          “I wish I knew,” answered Minerva with a frown, “but I think I might know someone who can find out,” she added thoughtfully. “If you’ll excuse me, Madam Pomfrey, I have a letter to write.”  
          “Of course,” replied Madam Pomfrey. “Good day,” she added and left the office closing the door behind her.    
          Minerva rummaged through her papers seeking a specific card she had received years earlier. “That’s the one!” she said to herself with satisfaction when she had found a small blue and gold card. Minerva swiftly pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write…

********************

          Witch Bulstrode pulled Holly Wycliff down the stairs with scarcely a pause. Holly was glad it was “down” instead of “up.” She was certain the witch would have little time or sympathy for Holly’s problems going up.  
          “What’s this all about?” Holly asked as they moved steadily down.  
          “I have no idea,” replied Witch Bulstrode.  
          Holly knew that was the truth as Witch Bulstrode’s emotions came through loud and clear. So much for Ministry people practicing Occlumency. But then, Roland had once explained that Occlumency was required of upper level Ministry positions, not all. The position of “Clerk” probably was not an “upper level” Ministry position. Holly also knew Witch Bulstrode was terribly hungry. The witch’s stomach, and now Holly’s, was rumbling loudly though it was well before noon. The hunger sensation was very distracting but Holly dared not block. It was too unusual to be called to the Ministry; both Madam Pomfrey and the Headmistress had expressed concern; Holly wanted all her senses working so she could figure out what was going on. The two reached the bottom of the steps and walked out the entryway. A carriage awaited them. Witch Bulstrode helped Holly into the carriage before getting in herself and the carriage took off down the road.  
          As soon as the carriage rolled out the front gates of Hogwarts Witch Bulstrode turned to Holly. “We’re going to do something called “Apparate,” she informed Holly. “I expect you may have heard or read about it by now,” she added explaining, “but if you haven’t, it’s the usual way we witches and wizards travel. Normally, we don’t let students as young as you Apparate but this is a special circumstance. It will enable us to get to the Ministry faster. Otherwise you would have to miss much more school to get there and back in time. Now,” said Witch Bulstrode in a no-nonsense like fashion, “hang on tightly.” Holly looked up at her apprehensively without moving. “Better yet,” the witch suggested practically, “I’ll hang on to you!” And she grabbed Holly’s arm tightly. “You just close your eyes and don’t worry about a thing.”  
          But Holly didn’t close her eyes; she was too scared to. The pain in her arm of being grabbed was horribly familiar and Holly had a sense of impending doom! Suddenly everything went black. Holly felt like she was being pressed very hard from all directions; she couldn’t breathe, iron bands seemed to tighten around her chest, her eyeballs were being forced back into her head, her eardrums were being pushed deeper into her scull and then, Holly was breathing again. She felt as if she had just been squeezed into a garden hose.  
          “There, see?” came the cheerful voice of Witch Bulstrode. “Nothing to it!”  
          Nothing to it? Holly swayed and swallowed repeatedly desperately trying to not vomit and control the fear that suddenly overwhelmed her. The experience reminded Holly of another time with another Slytherin holding tightly onto her arm… It wasn’t exactly a flashback, but a memory—one so real and horrible that Holly could do nothing but quiver uncontrollably in its wake!  
          “Oh, come on!” snapped Witch Bulstrode unsympathetically. “It wasn’t that bad!” Keeping a tight grip on Holly the witch strode forward dragging Holly along. “No wonder we don’t let the younger ones Apparate,” Witch Bulstrode muttered disgustedly and she stepped forward to open an ancient looking telephone box door. “Get in!” she ordered. She kind of pushed Holly inside and squeezed in besides her. The witch picked up the receiver and started dialing some numbers.  
          Suddenly a cool female voice spoke up from out of nowhere: “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”  
          “Millicent Bulstrode, Ministry of Magic Clerk at Large, here to escort Holly Wycliff to Child Services…” Witch Bulstrode answered calmly. She waited a moment, then reached into the telephone change chute and pulled out a square silver badge with the name _Holly Wycliff, Child Services_ written on it. “Now, we just pin this on you,” she told Holly, “and we’re ready to go.”  
          As Witch Bulstrode pinned the badge on Holly’s robe, the female voice spoke again: “Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk.”  
          The floor of the telephone box shuttered and the two began to sink slowly into the ground. The pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box and still the booth continued to sink into the ground. Down and down it went coming to a sudden stop with a lurch.  
          “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” said the female voice and the door of the telephone box sprang open.  
          “Come along,” encouraged Witch Bulstrode and she set briskly off down the hall.  
          Holly lingered to look around first. The corridor was filled with wizards and witches hurrying back and forth. They wore a colorful array of robes. Most of the action seemed to come from the left side, out of the many gilded fireplaces set into the shiny dark wood paneled walls. Other witches and wizards stood quietly in line on the right side waiting for their turn to leave vanishing from a similar looking fireplace. At first, Holly thought she was viewing one of her flashback scenes like back in Diagon Alley with flashback images coexisting with reality. The emotions she felt did not correspond with the number of people surrounding her. But then Holly realized no one walked into each other! All the people she saw were real—most likely practicing Occlumency! It was unnerving to see so many people she couldn’t sense.  
          “Would you try to keep up, Miss Wycliff?” Holly looked up to see Witch Bulstrode far ahead stamping her foot impatiently. “We mustn’t be late!” she told Holly. Holly hurried down the highly polished dark wood floor while trying to look at the peacock-blue ceiling inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing. She finally caught up with Witch Bulstrode besides a huge fountain and circular pool set in the middle of the hall.  
          “Come along!” urged the witch taking Holly’s arm and hurrying her down the hall not giving Holly a chance to linger or look at the fountain with its shining lights and sparkling water. The Witch stopped Holly in front of a middle-aged wizard with long yellow hair in purple robes that stood under a sign labeled “Security.” “I’m escorting a visitor,” Witch Bulstrode told the wizard.  
          The wizard looked curiously at Holly as he passed some sort of a golden rod up and down Holly’s front and back. “Wand,” he said calmly as he put down the rod. Holly pulled out her school wand and handed it to the wizard. He dropped it onto a brass plate of some sort. The plate began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment suddenly appeared from the bottom of the plate speeding out like a piece of checking tape from a cash register. The wizard tore it off and read the writing upon it.  
          “Nine and three quarters inches, phoenix-feather core; been in use two and one half years. That correct?” he asked in a bored voice.  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Holly softly. She wondered absently what the plate would have said about her other wand…  
          The wizard took the parchment and impaled it on a small brass spike. “Here,” he said returning the wand.  
          “Thank you,” whispered Holly and returned the wand to her pocket.  
          Witch Bulstrode rushed Holly down a long hall. Holly saw a golden gate at its end. Actually, there were several golden gates; many had wizards and witches crowded behind them. A number of paper airplanes hovered overhead. As they neared Holly realized that each gate seemed to be an ornate golden grille and behind each gate was a lift.  
          Witch Bulstrode pushed her way through the crowd dragging Holly along with her. “Going down!” she announced loudly and the people waiting to go the other direction obligingly stepped aside to let them through. Holly could sense curiosity from those she passed and tucked her head down and stared fixedly at her shoes feeling embarrassed at the attention. “Come on,” Witch Bulstrode urged Holly as a descending lift rumbled to a stop in front of them. The golden grille slid open and the two got on. As one does with a lift, Holly walked Witch Bulstrode to the far end and then turned around placing her back to the wall. Then Holly looked around. She saw four blood red walls with no visible doors or windows! Each wall was decorated with a black calligraphy style “V”!  
          It was a flashback! It had to be and a part of Holly knew it! But she couldn’t see past that horrid red! Holly closed her eyes and clung to Witch Bulstrode reassuring herself that it wasn’t really that room Wizard Flint had taken her to. The lift rumbled and stopped with a jolt. Holly kept her eyes tightly closed as she heard the grille slide open. She kept tight hold to Witch Bulstrode content to let the witch pull her out of the lift trusting the floor was level and free of obstructions.  
          “I realize you’ve Muggle parents,” exclaimed Witch Bulstrode shaking free of Holly’s grasp after a few steps, “but they can’t be _that_ backwards! Surely you’ve been on a lift before?”  
          “Not like that,” whispered Holly. Only after Holly heard the grille close behind her did she venture to open her eyes. Ahead was an ordinary corridor with bare walls and a plain black set of doors at the end of the corridor.  
          Witch Bulstrode set off at a fast clip and Holly hurried to keep up. “Normally we wouldn’t be going down here,” Witch Bulstrode added apologetically as they walked, “but there’s a wizard convention going on. They’ve taken up all the upstairs rooms for their convention meetings and we had to open up the old rooms to use for regular business. You’ll actually be going to an old courtroom,” she informed Holly as they turned at the end of the corridor and started down a flight of stairs. “A lot of famous criminals were tried there and then sent to Azkaban, but don’t you worry. That was a long time ago. It’s just the room they’re using. You’re not on trial or anything. That much I do know.”  
          “How do you know?” asked Holly apprehensively. She couldn’t imagine why anyone from Child Services would want to see her in the first place. They reached the bottom of the stairs and started down a narrow corridor with rough stone walls and torches in brackets that lit the way.  
          “Because that’s not my department,” the witch replied briskly. “They’d have asked an Auror or someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to fetch you and you’d be in chains or the like.” She slowed a moment letting Holly catch up and then resumed walking at her brisk pace. By trotting, Holly managed to keep even with the witch’s step.  
          “What time are we supposed to be there anyway?” Holly asked after the two turned down another narrow passageway.  
          “Eleven!” replied Witch Bulstrode primly. “We’d have been here with time to spare but it took longer than I expected to get you out of Hogwarts…”  
          “I had to change first,” explained Holly.  
          “Hmmm” said Witch Bulstrode grumpily.  
          “What happens if we’re late?” Holly inquired curiously while they walked.  
          “Then I get into very big trouble,” admitted Witch Bulstrode while turning into another narrow corridor. “You’re a last minute addition,” she informed Holly. “I was instructed to make sure Child Services see you this week, but their schedule was already full. It took some creative juggling on my part to manage the eleven o’clock time slot,” the witch added proudly. “If you miss your scheduled time the officials will skip ahead to the next person and you will have to sit around the rest of the day while I try to figure out some way to squeeze you in. Most likely we’d have to settle for right before or after dinner, _if_ we’re lucky.” They turned down another corridor passing several heavy wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes without slowing.  
          “Ah, here we are and with a minute to spare,” Witch Bulstrode proudly said as she stopped in front of a set of huge double doors with an immense iron lock and heavy iron handles.  
          There were narrow stone benches along the wall at either side of the doors. A tired looking lady sat on one bench with a sleeping child wrapped in a blanket resting on her shoulder. A man and a woman sat with a group of four young children—all under the age of five at the other bench. The older two children stood on the bench sucking their thumbs shyly and stared at Holly with big brown eyes. The man bounced a third on his knee keeping it quiet while the woman tried to feed the youngest, a baby actually; it was hungry but fussed and wouldn’t eat—Holly knew the baby’s mouth hurt and guessed it was teething.  
          A forbidding sign was posted on the doors: IN SESSION—DO NOT DISTURB!  
          “Bother!” said Witch Bulstrode. “I work hard to get you here in time and _they_ decide to run late!” She tapped her foot impatiently and her stomach rumbled loudly. “Are you the 11:30?” she asked the women with the baby.  
          “No,” the woman said wearily. “I’m 11:15. They’re 11:30,” she added nodding at the family.  
          “Eleven fifteen!” muttered Witch Bulstrode in annoyance. “There was no 11:15 this morning! And they’re already running late! I hope they don’t suddenly decide to cut the list…” she added worriedly. Her stomach continued to rumble and now Holly felt exhaustion from the lady next to her, anxiety from the man on the other bench, worry from the woman next to him, curiosity and boredom from the children and her mouth hurt!  
          “Why don’t you sit down while we wait,” suggested Witch Bulstrode. Holly gratefully sat next to the tired mother. She leaned her head against the cold wall, closed her eyes and fought to separate the outside emotions from her own worry of why she was even there and the lingering effects of the nausea she had from the Apparating experience. “Would you like something to eat?”  
          “No, thank you,” Holly whispered. Despite the hunger she felt from others, Holly couldn’t begin to think about eating with all her other problems. The witch eminated disappointment and her stomach rumbled ever louder. Holly opened her eyes and looked around. She saw a snack cart in the distance and realized it wasn’t just compassion that made the witch ask… “Uh, maybe some water would be nice,” Holly suggested.  
          Witch Bulstrode smiled happily. “You wait right here,” she told Holly, “and I’ll go get you some…”  
          Holly closed her eyes again and leaned back against the wall in relief happy to be rid of one of the outside sensations. She used the time to sort through her own emotions. Some part of Holly had always known Wizard Flint must have Apparated her to the Security Station, but she hadn’t really thought about it. Apparating with Witch Bulstrode had not only given a name to what Wizard Flint had done but brought the memory of it to the surface. Along with the memory came the apprehension, fear and uncertainty that had filled her the first time. Would the fear continue every time she Apparated?  
          “Here,” said Witch Bulstrode bruskly.  
          Holly opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly and accepted a small cup filled with water. She took a sip and focused on the cooling sensation that went down her throat. It did seem to help clear her mind. Witch Bulstrode sat down on the bench next to Holly and started to unwrap what appeared to be a rather large sandwich. Suddenly the huge doors swung open.  
          Out came a stout woman hauling a small boy by the ear! “But mum!” he said in protest.  
          “Don’t you “Mum” me!” she told him angrily while marching him down the corridor. “I don’t buy your excuses! I know you know better! Muggle children are _not_ pets and if you can’t play with them nicely you shouldn’t play with them at all! You are lucky the Ministry caught you before I did!” she continued as she rounded the corner. “They let you off with just a warning! I’d have turned you into a ball so the Muggles could _play_ with you!”  
          A tall, thin, very old frail looking wizard in slate gray robes and gold trim stepped out after the woman. He stopped right outside the doors, unrolled a very long parchment and began to read from it. “Eleven o’clock, Miss Holly Wycliff,” he announced loudly to no one in particular.  
          “Darn!” muttered Witch Bulstrode in annoyance. She hastily rewrapped the sandwich and stood. “Come on!” she told Holly urging her to stand also. Holly gulped down her water, set the cup onto the bench and stood. Taking a deep breath she followed Witch Bulstrode through the doors and into the room.

********************

          The room was huge! More like an amphitheatre actually! It had dark stone walls and ceiling. Several torches poked out of brackets in the walls providing a dim light. Empty benches rose up on either side of her. There were more benches in front. At first glance, they seemed empty too, but then Holly could see the shadowy forms of four people seated in the highest benches. Witch Bulstrode took one of the benches on the side sitting down next to the tall wizard in the gray robes.  
          Holly heard a faint rattling on the floor in the center of the room. Looking at the source, she saw a chair. It was covered with a heavy purple paisley print cloth but the form beneath looked rather stiff and uncomfortable. As Holly stared, something underneath the cloth moved and rattled ominously at the armrests. Holly suddenly felt sick. Those had to be chains underneath! The kind that would reach out and grab you! The chair was just like the one Tom Riddle had constructed for _that room!_  
          “Take your seat!” instructed a voice from above. Holly looked up; she couldn’t tell which of the four wizards had spoken. “TAKE YOUR SEAT!” the voice repeated loudly.  
          Holly gulped nervously. “N-no sir,” she refused in a tiny shaky voice. Holly knew she was making a bad first impression for whatever reason she was here, but cloth or not, there was no way she would willingly sit in that chair, _ever!_  
          “Sit!” ordered the voice ominously. But Holly just stood rooted in place.  
          “Nonsense!” came a different voice, female this time. “You’ve terrified the poor thing. She’s not on trial here so she doesn’t have to sit there if she does not wish to. But you do have to move forward under the light so we can see you better,” the voice added in a gentler tone. “Could you do that, please?”  
          Holly nodded and cautiously slid her feet forward all the while keeping a watchful eye on the chair.  
          “That’s enough,” informed the female voice kindly. “You may stop now.”  
          Holly thankfully stopped less than a meter from the edge of the chair. She peered up into the gloom trying to see the speaker. She saw the heads bend together and heard a quiet murmuring of their voices. Abruptly the four wizards picked up their papers, stood and stepped down from their high bench. They continued moving down and took a place on the second bench in front of her. A long board magically appeared in front of them upon which they placed their papers.  
          “Is that better?” asked the female witch as the other witch with the quill started writing rapidly. They all sat in the torchlight and could be easily seen. Holly nodded silently. “We had to make an impression on that young boy who was in here before you,” she told Holly with a smile, “but there is no need to make that kind of impression on you. You are only here to answer a few questions.”  
          “Y-yes, ma’am,” whispered Holly and she looked at the four wizards with open interest. Three of them wore identical slate gray robes with gold trim and matching hats. The hats looked the kind Holly had seen Scottish pipers wear in marching bands barely covering the head; each had a plum colored rosette on the left side. Elaborately worked letters “CS” appeared in plum color on the left hand side of the robe. The forth wore the slate gray robes but no hat. She looked very young with light brown hair and was holding a quill ready to write.  
          “My name is Eleanor Branstone,” said the witch with the kind voice introducing herself. She had light blue eyes and smooth, unwrinkled skin. She seemed elderly but Holly couldn’t tell for sure with her hair hidden under the hat. “This is my colleague Marcus Belby,” she added nodding to the wizard sitting next to her. He had wire-rimmed glasses and a thin face with a kind of nervous twitch to his right eye. Wizard Belby raised his hand briefly and tilted his head in acknowledgement, “and Blaize Zabini.” Wizard Zabini was tall and lean with black skin, high cheekbones and long slanting eyes; he scarce moved at the introduction and studied Holly with glittering eyes. “The young lady is Miss Agatha Abercrombie, our recorder,” continued Witch Branstone with a smile. Without stopping her quill, Witch Abercrombie briefly looked up and smiled brightly before returning her eyes to her paper. “Thank you so much for coming to see us,” Witch Branstone added.  
          Holly nodded politely but didn’t speak. It wasn’t her idea to come here nor was it willingly and they probably all knew it.  
          “Do you know why you’re here?” questioned Wizard Zabini. His was the voice that had ordered her to sit.  
          “N-no, sir,” replied Holly looking into his stern face.  
          “Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” he said gruffly.  
          “I understand you’re an Empath,” said Wizard Belby. He adjusted his glasses and stared with open interest at Holly. His right eye twitched twice.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly softly looking back but trying to not stare at the twitching eye.  
          “Can you sense _our_ emotions?” he asked curiously.  
          “Uh,” Holly looked around the room uncertainly. What exactly did he mean? She could sense Witch Bulstrode, and the elderly wizard next to her but of the others... “N-no, sir,” Holly finally answered deciding he meant the four in front of her. “Not yours,” she amended just in case she had guessed wrong.  
          “You’re blocking, right?” he asked showing he knew something about how Empaths worked.  
          “Uh,” Holly hesitated again looking at the three faces wondering what to say. She wasn’t used to talking about her abilities in front of strangers.  
          “It’s O.K., dear,” said Witch Branstone kindly. “Just be honest. We want to hear the truth.”  
          “No,” Holly finally admitted softly.  
          Wizard Zabini exhaled loudly and leaned back. Holly started at the sound.  
          “It’s all right,” assured Witch Branstone with a smile. “That was the answer we expected. We’re practicing something called Occlumency,” she informed Holly. “It’s part of our job. We knew you couldn’t sense us,” she added, “and we wanted to see how you would respond to our question. I expect it must seem very strange to you to talk with people whose emotions you cannot sense, but that’s how it is in the Ministry. It’s nothing to worry about,” she added trying to put Holly at her ease.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly.  
          “What kind of a range do you normally have?” asked Wizard Belby with interest. His eye twitched again as he spoke.  
          “Uh,” began Holly thoughtfully. She hadn’t been tested for range recently.  
          “Never mind that!” interrupted Wizard Zabini impatiently. “Let’s get on with it! We’ve a full schedule today and not a lot of time!”  
          “Very well,” replied Wizard Belby frowning in annoyance. He shuffled some papers about and looked up at Holly. “Let’s get done with the basics first,” he suggested. “Could you state your full name for the record?”  
          “Holly Ann Wycliff.” Witch Abercrombie’s quill seemed to scratch loudly as Holly spoke.  
          “You’re a student at Hogwarts, correct?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Third year?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “And how old are you?”  
          “Thirteen.”  
          “And your home address is?”  
          “DON’T ANSWER THAT!” a familiar voice rang out. Holly swung her head around and saw the curly brown hair and face of Wizard Pilkington standing right behind her!

********************

          “How dare you interrupt our proceedings!” said Wizard Zabini angrily. “You’ve no business here!”  
          “Of course I have,” answered Daniel Pilkington cheerfully. “This is a courtroom and there seems to be someone here without legal defense.”  
          “This is an Inquiry not a trial,” replied Wizard Zabini sternly. “There is no need for legal defense.”  
          “On the contrary,” replied Daniel. “I see a minor in a legal proceeding unaccompanied by an adult.”  
          “She has Witch Bulstrode,” replied Wizard Belby firmly. Witch Bulstrode looked up guiltily at the mention of her name. She looked like she had been quietly trying to unwrap a sandwich.  
          “If you’ll forgive me,” began Daniel smoothly. “Witch Bulstrode is a Ministry employee. She is hardly in any position to offer counsel and advice especially should that advice be contrary to the interests of the Ministry… _And she’s a bit of an idiot, too_ ,” Daniel added mentally. It wasn’t proper to speak ill of co-workers but it was totally out of line for her to try to eat in the middle of any courtroom proceeding and she should have known it. “I, on the other hand,” Daniel continued out loud, “am totally free of such restraints.” Daniel operated as a Solicitor at Large, Amicus Curiae (friend of the court) and Amicus Opibus (friend of the disadvantaged,) of clients who, for whatever reason, were unable to provide their own legal services whatever the need may be at the time. Daniel never charged for his services as a “Friend” so got a lot of tips from interested third parties who thought someone might need more assistance than perhaps he or she might realize… Today, Daniel had received an urgent owl from Headmistress McGonagall suggesting one of her student might have immediate need for legal representation under somewhat mysterious and unusual circumstances. Accordingly, Daniel had hurried to Child Services to see what was up…  
          “That may be so,” said Witch Branstone acknowledging Daniel’s independent status, “but the fact remains that your presence is not required.”  
          “True,” agreed Daniel. An adult presence was not required when a minor was merely questioned. “But as long as I’m here,” he added cheerfully, why don’t we see if Miss Wycliff would like me to remain?” He turned his head to look at Miss Wycliff.  
          The girl looked white as a sheet and Daniel suddenly realized she hadn’t moved a millimeter since his arrival. As the scent of Witch Bulstrode’s hot roast beef sandwich wafted throughout the courtroom Miss Wycliff suddenly bolted! She shot right through the doorway Daniel had left open in his haste to arrive, and vanished from sight.  
          “Bother!!” muttered Witch Bulstrode. She abandoned her uneaten sandwich and hastily left the room.  
          Daniel looked back at the Child Service officials. “I uh, believe my _client_ wishes some time to confer…” he told them. They looked wordlessly at each other and then at Daniel.  
          “You have five minutes!” declared Witch Branstone sternly. “After that, we shall continue with our schedule.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” said Daniel meekly and hastened from the room.

********************

          “Now where,” mused Daniel out loud as he looked up and down the corridor outside the courtroom, “would a very upset young girl go?”  
          “Are you crazy?” came the loud voice of Witch Bulstrode. “You can’t just run out on an Inquiry!” Daniel hurried towards the sound. “What do you think you’re doing?” he heard Witch Bulstrode exclaim. _“OW!!!_ HOW DARE YOU!” Daniel rounded the corner in time to see Miss Wycliff charge down the corridor turning at the first opportunity.  
          “She _bit_ me!” exclaimed Witch Bulstrode in disbelief while holding up her arm as Daniel drew near. “And kicked me!” she added angrily. Daniel raced past the witch and continued down the corridor.  
          He rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. Miss Wycliff was crouched down against the wall, her green eyes were wide open in terror and her arms were extended stiffly to the ground, hands clenched into tight fists.  
          “There you are, you little brat!” exclaimed Witch Bulstrode hobbling up behind Daniel. “I think she broke my foot too! Come on!” she added reaching out to grab Miss Wycliff.  
          “No!” Daniel suddenly said while raising his own hand to restrain Witch Bulstrode. “We’re consulting!” he added thinking quickly.  
          “No, you’re not!” argued Witch Bulstrode sensibly.  
          “That’s because you’re here!” replied Daniel. “We need privacy.”  
          “Well I’m not supposed to leave her alone!” replied Witch Bulstrode testily.  
_“Really?”_ thought Daniel. _“That’s interesting.”_ Aloud he suggested, “Perhaps you could step back a ways so you can see her but not listen…”  
          “Oh, very well,” grumbled the witch. “She’s all yours!” And she limped down the corridor stopping at the end well out of hearing.  
          Daniel squatted down in front of Miss Wycliff and studied her. Her expression hadn’t changed a bit; she seemed frozen in terror! “Now why are you so scared?” he mused aloud to himself. He liked a puzzle and this was a doozy! Certainly nothing Daniel had heard about Miss Wycliff ever indicated behavior like this!  
          “If he finds me, he’ll take me to Azkaban!” Miss Wycliff suddenly whispered. Her whole body literally shook as she spoke but otherwise she remained in place.  
          “Who?” asked Daniel softly.  
          “Wizard Flint!”  
          Wizard Flint? He was a rather ineffectual wizard who had recently joined the Ministry, wasn’t he? What had he to do with Miss Wycliff?  
          “I won’t let him,” assured Daniel. After all, he was one of the best solicitors around, if not _the_ best. And there was nothing this girl could have done to merit a trip to Azkaban…  
          “Yes, you will!” Miss Wycliff argued tonelessly as she looked straight ahead with unblinking eyes. “You already did and you’ll do it again when he gives the order!”  
          “Nobody orders me,” stated Daniel flatly ignoring Miss Wycliff’s assertion that the two had met before which they certainly hadn’t. One of the reasons Daniel had become a Solicitor and Amicus was so he could pick and choose the cases he wanted free from anyone’s orders…  
          Miss Wycliff did not respond. Daniel studied her thoughtfully and tried again. “Why don’t you use your wand to fight him?” he suggested. Given what Leila had reported concerning Miss Wycliff’s abilities at dueling Daniel was certain she could hold her own against Wizard Flint even if he was older...  
          “I don’t have it,” the girl whispered.  
          “Of course you do,” argued Daniel. He knew the Security Official had returned the wand after his check; no one walked in the Ministry wandless. “See for yourself,” he challenged.  
          For a full minute nothing happened and then one hand cautiously lifted. But instead of going to a shirt or pants pocket where students usually kept their wands, it snaked to her waist and tugged at something hidden under her shirt. Daniel watched in amazement as she pulled out what seemed to be a woven wand case attached to a belt! Without otherwise moving, the fingers inched up the belt stopping suddenly at the end of a honey-colored wand that lay within the case. Miss Wycliff’s fingers slowly pulled the wand out of the case and then gripped it firmly. As he watched, the terror seemed to melt from the girl’s eyes, the color returned to her skin and her body seemed to relax.  
          Miss Wycliff turned her head towards Daniel as if seeing him for the first time and then looked suddenly down. “Where am I?” she questioned softly while not looking directly at Daniel.  
           “You’re in the Ministry of Magic,” Daniel informed the girl glad that this question made more sense than her earlier words. “You were about to decide whether you wanted me as your Solicitor,” he added not sure how much she had heard or understood before she had left the room. “Would you like me to be your Solicitor?” he asked gently.  
          “Yes, sir,” Miss Wycliff whispered while still not looking at him.  
          “Good.” Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. He would have felt foolish indeed if, after all this, she had refused his offer to help. “Then perhaps we should get back to the courtroom. Think you can manage that?”  
          “Yes, sir.” The girl silently returned the wand to its case and tucked the belt beneath her shirt.  
          Daniel straightened and then bent down and offered his hand to Miss Wycliff. The girl gulped when she saw his hand. Daniel started to withdraw his hand when she said, “No, just give me a moment; I can handle this.”  
_Handle this?_ What kind of response was that? Daniel left his hand where it was and waited. Miss Wycliff took a deep breath, kept her head down and grasped his hand. Daniel tugged gently helping her stand.  
          “This way,” he told her and the two started back towards the courtroom.  
          “You said I shouldn’t answer that last question,” said Miss Wycliff as they walked.  
          “Yes,” replied Daniel. He was rather surprised Miss Wycliff had even heard his words. Thinking back, the white face and wide eyes he had seen in the courtroom were surely a symptom that the girl was experiencing some sort of major hallucination, one that later caused her to flee from the room in terror. He wondered what triggered it. It was interesting that while the girl did not appear to know where she was afterwards, she did not question what had just happened. That implied something of that sort had occurred to her before. Strange that Leila never mentioned it. His daughter was very observant and good at reporting Hogwarts news; Daniel encouraged it never knowing when a stray piece of information would lead to a new client or help in an existing case.  
          “Might I ask why?” questioned Miss Wycliff.  
          “Because it is an unusual question,” replied Daniel.  
          “It is? But I thought they always asked things like that in courtrooms.”  
          “In Muggle proceedings, yes,” Daniel agreed, “but not wizard ones. Many wizards have unplottable homes,” he reminded her. “Unplottable homes are protected by law. Publicly revealing the location of an unplottable home would break the spell,” he continued. “So it is not a question asked of wizards.”  
          “Oh.” They took a few more steps and then she asked, “Why were they asking it?”  
          “Honestly? I don’t know. So its best to say nothing until we know more.”  
          “Oh. Do you know why they brought me here?”  
          “I don’t know that either,” Daniel admitted, “but I’ll figure it out and when I do, I’ll let you know,” he told her confidently.  
          “Thank you.” As they rounded the corner Miss Wycliff commented, “Witch Bulstrode is rather upset.”  
          “Huh?” Daniel started at the comment and glanced back to note that Witch Bulstrode was following, rather limping, behind at a discrete distance. How had Miss Wycliff known? Of course! The girl was an Empath! No doubt she could sense the witch’s presence, and at a considerable distance, too, it seemed. Aloud he said, “She’s probably annoyed because you kicked her, stepped on her foot and, if I heard her correctly, _bit_ her.”  
          Miss Wycliff colored. “I did?”  
          “You did,” replied Daniel firmly. He noted that while the girl didn’t seem to know what she had done, she didn’t seem overly surprised either.  
          “I’m sorry,” she said softly.  
          “Hmmm,” said Daniel. “You might make it a point to tell Witch Bulstrode that.”  
          “Yes, sir,” Miss Wycliff agreed. “I didn’t mean to do it,” she added as they continued walking.  
          “Actually, I rather think you did,” Daniel mused out loud. “You just got the wrong person,” he continued when she didn’t argue. “I’m guessing you were trying for Wizard Flint weren’t you?” Though he hadn’t the foggiest idea why, it was pretty clear Miss Wycliff had been hallucinating about Wizard Flint.  
          For a while only the sound of their footsteps echoing in the corridor could be heard and then she whispered, “Yes, sir.”  
_“Interesting,”_ thought Daniel. But he would consider the implications of that later. They reached the huge double doors. “After you,” Daniel told Miss Wycliff stepping back to permit her entry.  
          “Thank you,” the girl replied softly. She moved forward and stepped back into the room. The Child Services Officials looked up at their arrival. They were not a moment too soon judging by the appearance of the Wizard Bertram, the Child Services Herald who suddenly sat down. No doubt he was about to call the next person.  
          “Thank you for your indulgence,” said Daniel smoothly. “We have finished our consultation and are ready to continue.”  
          “Is that true?” questioned Witch Branstone.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Miss Wycliff in a soft but firm voice.  
          “Very well,” said Wizard Zabini sternly. “Please step forward.”  
          Miss Wycliff took several steps forward before stopping in front of the three officials.  
          “Let’s see,” said Wizard Belby rummaging through the papers in front of him. “Ah, yes. Name, Hogwarts student, third year, age… You were about to tell us your residence. Where do you live?” He lifted his head, adjusted his glasses and stared directly at Miss Wycliff. His eye twitched in expectation.  
          “Uh,” Miss Wycliff looked hesitantly back towards Daniel but not actually at him before returning her attention to Wizard Belby. “I respectfully decline to answer that question,” she said.  
          “Why?” asked Witch Branstone.  
          “Because it is not a proper question for a witch,” she answered.  
          “We decide what questions are proper!” growled Wizard Zabini.  
          “Of course you do,” interjected Daniel while stepping forward to stand besides Miss Wycliff, “but as this is only an Inquiry, Miss Wycliff is free to not answer the questions put to her as you have no doubt already explained.”  
          “Have you any idea what you have done?” said Wizard Zabini looking at Daniel venomously.  
          “Certainly,” replied Daniel cheerfully though he had no idea what the wizard meant. “I merely suggested my client exercise her rights. You _did_ explain her rights, did you not?”  
          “We, uh, hadn’t gotten to that part of the Inquiry,” admitted Wizard Belby uncomfortably. His eye twitched nervously several times.  
          Daniel raised an eyebrow. That information should have been provided in the first few minutes of the Inquiry before any questions were asked. “No matter,” he told them easily. “As Miss Wycliff has already refused to answer that particular question, perhaps you just could skip to the next question…” he suggested.  
          The three officials looked at each other wordlessly and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.  
          Finally Witch Branstone set down her papers, turned her head to Miss Wycliff and said, “You are dismissed. Witch Bulstrode, please see that Miss Wycliff gets back to Hogwarts safely. Inform the eleven-fifteen that we are now ready to hear her case,” she added to Wizard Bertram as Witch Bulstrode hastily began to re-wrap her sandwich.  
          “That it?” inquired Miss Wycliff softly with a wondering sound to her voice.  
          “So it would seem,” murmured Daniel thoughtfully, his mind working rapidly trying to process what had just happened. This whole inquiry had been to learn the address of her parents! It had to be! But why? The only person he knew who wanted to know where the Wycliffs lived was Rita Skeeter of the _Daily Prophet_. But Child Services was no stooge for the _Daily Prophet_. They must have had some other reason to get that address—a good one! But what?  
          “Let’s go!” announced Witch Bulstrode briskly. She had come up with her uneaten sandwich in one hand. She placed her other hand on Miss Wycliff’s elbow to hustle the girl out of the courtroom.  
          “Uh, why don’t you take a moment to eat that sandwich on the bench outside,” suggested Daniel swiftly. “I need to confer with my client again…”  
          “Very well,” replied Witch Bulstrode. “Just stay in sight.”  
          “Of course,” agreed Daniel. The three stepped out of the courtroom and moved into the corridor. Witch Bulstrode sat down to finally enjoy her sandwich and Daniel took Miss Wycliff aside away from the other people to talk.  
          “There is something more to this than a simple Inquiry,” Daniel told her. “Today is Thursday. How about I meet you on Saturday at the Three Broomstick Inn? That should give me some time to do a bit of digging and maybe have some answers for you."  
          “Uh, could we make it the Hog’s Head, instead?” asked Miss Wycliff while looking steadfastly down at the ground.  
          “The Hog’s Head?” repeated Daniel while wondering why Miss Wycliff preferred it over the Three Broomsticks. He didn’t ask, of course; the reason was unimportant. “Certainly, if that’s where you’d rather go. I can get a room there just as easily. Shall we say ten o’clock?”  
          “Yes, sir, I can do that,” agreed Miss Wycliff.  
          “Good. Then I’ll leave word with Mr. Dumbledore to tell you which room when you arrive and I’ll see you there. And now, I believe you have something to say to Witch Bulstrode…”  
           Miss Wycliff gulped and nodded. She walked back to the witch and Daniel followed. “I’m sorry I did those things earlier,” she told Witch Bulstrode. “I wasn’t thinking clearly…”  
          “You certainly weren’t!” said Witch Bulstrode sternly clearly not impressed by the apology. “What on earth did you think you—”  
          “She can’t talk about that,” interrupted Daniel.  
          “Huh?”  
          “In fact, neither can you!” he added making a quick decision.  
          “What?”  
          “Everything which happened the moment Miss Wycliff left the courtroom must be kept in strict confidence.” Daniel told Witch Bulstrode. Daniel had no idea why Miss Wycliff had behaved as she had but he was certain she would not wish it publicized throughout the Ministry. “We were conferring,” Daniel continued explaining. “And while you are not part of my regular staff, you indicated you had to keep Miss Wycliff’s company throughout her visit to the Ministry which made you privy to confidential information.”  
          “But I didn’t hear anything,” protested Witch Bulstrode.  
          “You don’t have to,” replied Daniel smoothly. “A consultation is more than just words. Therefore I repeat, everything that happened, and I mean _everything_ , after Miss Wycliff left the courtroom must be regarded as strictly confidential. If you breach that confidence, you could open yourself to all sorts of lawsuits…” Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You wouldn’t want word to get out that a thirteen year old got the better of you would you?” She didn’t respond, but Daniel could almost hear the wheels of her mind working… “This way you can be assured no one will ever find out…”  
          “Well, if you insist,” said Witch Bulstrode slowly.  
          “I do,” replied Daniel firmly. “And of course, you’d be entitled to some extra compensation for your additional duties today,” he added smoothly. It never hurt to keep the clerks happy. “Just be sure to file a form 17B with your timesheet.”  
          “Of course,” replied Witch Bulstrode thoroughly mollified. “I’ll do that.”  
          “Terrific!” exclaimed Daniel with a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some research to do. “Good-bye, Miss Wycliff. I’ll see you on Saturday.” He extended his hand under her nose so she’d see it. It was difficult dealing with a client who wouldn’t look at you.  
          “Good-bye, sir,” said Miss Wycliff taking the hand.  
          Daniel gave her hand a reassuring shake and then left for the Owlery. He had to send a quick note to the Headmistress letting her know what happened and then another to Leila requesting anything she might know about Holly Wycliff. Daniel had a feeling he would need it…

********************           

          “No!” screamed Miss Wycliff suddenly. “I won’t go!” And she scrambled out of the carriage.  
          “Oh, for goodness sake!” sputtered Millicent Bulstrode pulling the carriage to a halt. “What now?”  
          “I refuse to go into Hogwarts with you!” exclaimed the Wycliff child.  
          “Of course you’re going into Hogwarts with me,” insisted Millicent.  
          Miss Wycliff stood just out of reach with her arms tightly folded around her chest. “You got me to Hogwarts,” she persisted. “I can make my own way into the castle.”  
          “That won’t do,” argued Millicent though she would have dearly loved to leave the child where she was and return to the Ministry. “I have to deliver you to Headmistress McGonagall personally.”  
          “No!” the girl insisted stubbornly.  
          “What has gotten into you?” exclaimed Millicent exasperated. “First you refuse to get into the lift…”  
          That had been a major fiasco. They had just reached the ninth floor of the Ministry when Wycliff suddenly asked to take the stairs instead of the lift to the eighth floor. When Millicent had told her she didn’t know where the stairs were, the girl stared at her with those green eyes and flatly said, “You lie!” Then she refused to move and threatened to make a scene until Millicent agreed to lead her to the stairs—which was a major hike to the other side of the floor through some rather nasty dusty cobwebby passages (all of which was why Millicent had denied knowing where the stairs were in the first place) and then a hike up the stairs and through the eighth floor to get to the exit. Fortunately, the girl didn’t object to going into the telephone lift to get out…  
          “...and now this! Are you still mad because we Apparated?” Millicent demanded. When they had gotten out of the lift Wycliff suddenly announced she didn’t want to Apparate! Rather than waste time arguing, Millicent had just grabbed her wrist and Apparated! When they arrived at the station Millicent let go immediately.  
          “I _hate_ you!” Wycliff declared looking up at Millicent with tear filled eyes.  
          “It’s just Apparating,” scoffed Millicent. “Nothing to whine about. And now it’s all over.” But the girl had sulked the whole time in the carriage on the way to Hogwarts.  
          “You and I both know I had to get you back today and the only way to do it was Apparating,” reminded Millicent. “I’m sorry you don’t like Apparating but as I said before, it’s all over. Now, if you’ll just get back into the carriage so we can ride up to the entrance,” Wycliff took another step back away from the carriage. “Or, we can walk from here if you insist,” suggested Millicent as a compromise, “but I have to take you to the Headmistress!”  
          “No!” the girl flatly said.  
          “What is your problem?” demanded Millicent. “Its not like you’ve never been to Hogwarts before!”  
          "What’s going on?”  
          Millicent looked up. Two older students wearing Gryffindor colours had walked up from the castle.  
          “Don’t let her take me, James!” Wycliff cried running up to one of them and clinging to his arm.  
          “Take you where?” James asked looking suspiciously at Millicent and drawing his wand. James was tall and slender with red-brown hair. He looked familiar somehow but Millicent couldn’t quite place it.  
          “To the Headmistress!” replied Millicent firmly. “I have to see to it that Miss Wycliff is returned to safely Hogwarts.”  
          “I’m safely at Hogwarts,” insisted Wycliff, “and I don’t want to go with her!”  
          “I’ll take her,” James offered instead of scoffing at the girl’s childish behavior.  
          “That’s nice of you to offer,” said Millicent regretfully, “but I can’t do that. I am responsible for Miss Wycliff until she reaches the Headmistress. I can’t just turn her over to you. But you could come with us,” Millicent counter-offered. Perhaps the girl would be more willing if it weren’t just the two of them.  
          “No!” Wycliff insisted. “I won’t go up the stairs with her! I just can’t! Don’t make me go up the stairs with her!”  
          “You won’t have to go up the stairs with her, Holly,” James assured her. “I’ll make sure. Who are you anyway?” he asked Millicent.  
          Millicent stared at James in disbelief. Didn’t he recognize her Ministry colors and the authority it represented? How could he blatantly defy the Ministry in support of an obviously spoiled child’s whims! What was Hogwarts coming to? How low had its standards sunk?  
          “I am Millicent Bulstrode, Ministry of Magic Clerk at Large here on official duty,” she said drawing herself up to her full height. “And that duty is to escort Miss Wycliff to the Headmistress.”  
          “Not if that means going up the stairs,” replied James firmly while staring defiantly at Millicent. Millicent was incredulous! Was he really going to support the child’s outlandish demand? How dare he!  
          “Why don’t I go get the Headmistress,” suggested the second student.  
          “Good idea, Lawrence,” said James nodding. He kept his wand drawn and a wary eye on Millicent while the second one retreated into the castle. Was the Headmistress really at the beck and call of the students? In her day it was the Headmaster who commanded and the students who obeyed!  
          “Hey, Potter!” came a new voice. Millicent looked towards the sound and saw some students in Slytherin colours walk up. “Planning on cutting class? Didn’t think your House could loose any more points!”  
          Potter! Well that explained a lot! They were cousins! Of course he would take Wycliff’s ridiculous side! Millicent looked again at James Potter. Yes, he did look a lot like his father Harry in height, stance and arrogance; it was the eye colour that threw her off—brown instead of green and no glasses.  
          “Last place is last place whether it is by ten or fifty points,” replied Potter coolly. “We were just waiting for the Headmistress, Warrington,” he told the Slytherin who had spoken. “Care to wait with us?”  
          “I think we’ll pass,” said Warrington laughing. “I like it in first place.” He and the other Slytherin students sauntered off.  
          “Witch Bulstrode?” Millicent turned and saw the tall figure of Headmistress McGonagall striding towards her followed by Lawrence. “Thank you for returning Miss Wycliff to Hogwarts,” the Headmistress began calmly. “Your diligence is duly noted and appreciated. Mr. Potter,” she added, “perhaps you could escort Miss Wycliff inside for some lunch.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” he said politely and pocketed his wand. “Come on, Holly,” he added. Miss Wycliff hastily wiped her eyes and started off with Potter. Millicent noted the two headed, not towards the castle entrance, but towards the lake!!! Furthermore, Headmistress McGonagall didn’t seem surprised at all!  
          “Have you any other business at Hogwarts?” questioned the Headmistress.  
          “No,” replied Millicent.  
          “Then perhaps you should get back to the Ministry where I am sure they have need of your most excellent services,” she said dismissing Millicent.  
          “Of course,” agreed Millicent and she got back into the carriage. It turned around and carried Millicent off the Hogwarts grounds.  
          _“Why hadn’t anyone said Miss Wycliff was as crazy as the rest of the family?”_ wondered Millicent as the carriage rattled on. She always kept up with the latest news in the _Daily Prophet_ and while there had been some discussion in it concerning the guardianship of Wycliff, there never been any mention about the Wycliff girl herself. Then a new thought occurred to Millicent. _“Maybe they didn’t know!”_ Millicent knew Rita Skeeter paid well for news tips about the Potters. Perhaps she would pay for information on the Wycliff child too...  
          But what could she say? Millicent pondered the events of the day. Certainly she could not reveal anything that happened at the Ministry; Pilkington was quick to file expensive lawsuits on any perceived infractions. But Wycliff’s absurd stubbornness at the entry at the castle, in full view of the Hogwarts staff and students—nothing about that could be construed as confidential…

********************

          The next day a small article appeared on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

_Is it Genetic?_

_Harry Potter was reported to have experienced nightmares, fainting spells and delusions during his_  
_youth. Of course many assumed this to be related to a certain Dark Lord Mr. Potter later defeated_  
_especially as none of these behaviors were reported after the Dark Lord’s death. But was the Dark_  
_Lord really the cause?_

 _Mr. Potter’s son Albus has been reported as having delusions and they surely cannot be attributed_  
_to the long dead Lord. In addition, this reporter has recently learned that Holly Wycliff, cousin of_  
_Harry Potter has demonstrated rather eccentric behavior of her own—among other things, a refusal_  
_to use the front entrance of Hogwarts and a tendency to make strange faces while mounting the_  
_great stairs. In previous years she was noted for a severe lack of appetite and a tendency to fall_  
_asleep during class._

 _Is this only the tip of the iceberg? What other mental aberrations exist within the family that hasn’t_  
_been publicly observed and reported? Is the seclusion of the Wycliff family voluntary or a compulsory_  
_confinement? Perhaps Miss Wycliff’s guardianship under Harry Potter is necessary for her own safety._  
_Should Harry Potter obtain a full time healer to deal with the problems of his family or does he already_  
_have one on retainer?..._

          “I should have kicked her again when I had a chance!” muttered Holly morosely after she read the article. Then she hunched down and braced herself for another day of teasing and taunts.


	39. Chapter 39

          The knock on his office door was soft but firm. Daniel Pilkington rose from his seat and hastened to answer it. He opened the door. “Hello, Mr. Potter,” he said politely greeting the familiar figure that stood in the doorway. Though Daniel had never before spoken to him personally, everyone in the wizard community could recognize the tall slim shape, untidy hair, glasses and distinguishing scar that was Harry Potter. “Thank you so much for taking the time to see me and on such short notice.”  
           “You said it was important,” replied Mr. Potter in a quiet voice.  
           And so he had. Daniel had sent an owl to the Potter residence as soon as he had finished his meeting with Holly, but he had never expected such a prompt response. The Potters were known to refuse all sorts of meetings and engagements preferring seclusion to exposure and publicity. Daniel had been rather surprised when an owl swiftly returned suggesting a meeting within the hour… “It is,” agreed Daniel aloud and was conscious of Mr. Potter’s steady scrutiny of him with those green eyes. The interest seemed more than that of two strangers meeting for the first time. “Won’t you come in please?” Daniel backed up to let Mr. Potter enter. No doubt Headmistress McGonagall had informed Mr. Potter of Miss Wycliff’s trip to Child Services. Daniel’s involvement with that could account for the extra interest, but then again… “Have a seat,” Daniel invited indicating a chair with armrests near his desk. Mr. Potter sat down. “Make yourself comfortable,” Daniel suggested as he drew up another chair across from Mr. Potter taking care to not sit with a desk between them. “Would you like some tea?” he offered.  
           “Please.”  
           Daniel used his wand to cause a pot of steaming tea, two cups and saucers to appear. “Sugar? Cream?” he asked as he poured. Daniel wanted to put Mr. Potter at his ease as much as possible in the hopes it might make him more willing to answer the questions Daniel had…  
           “No, thank you,” replied Mr. Potter calmly. He watched steadily as Daniel poured the tea and handed him a cup. Taking the spoon, Mr. Potter stirred his tea gently cooling it to the desired temperature and then took a sip.  
           “I expect you are wondering why I asked you here today,” began Daniel taking a sip of his own tea.  
           “You said it had to do with Holly,” answered Mr. Potter while putting down his saucer and cup on the nearby desk.  
           “It does,” agreed Daniel. “No doubt you know she visited Child Services this week…”  
           “Yes,” he answered simply. “Thank you for standing by her. Do you, perhaps, require remuneration?”  
           “No, not at all,” assured Daniel swiftly. “I never charge for my services as an Amicus Opibus. To do so would compromise my motives. If I accepted money from you, people might claim I worked in your best interest instead of hers.” But it raised Mr. Potter higher in Daniel’s esteem to note that he had made the offer, that his first concern was voiced for Holly’s needs not his own.  
           “If you are pleased with my services,” continued Daniel smoothly, “then you might remember it when I solicit donations for my annual fundraising ball… That was how Daniel managed to afford being an Amicus. Once a year he gave a fundraising ball. It was a very posh affair with expensive tickets, lots of good food and quality entertainment. Everyone who was anyone attended and the proceeds went to his Amicus fund. Satisfied recipients of his services often made generous contributions either in time, money or both to that fund.  
           “Normally I would not contact you at all,” continued Daniel choosing his words carefully, “but in this instance it would seem that the interests of Holly and yours might be the same, or at least so closely intertwined that I thought it advisable, with Holly’s consent, to try to gain your assistance.” Mr. Potter raised an eyebrow at this but did not speak. Now came the sticky part. “I believe you received a summons from Child Services last week,” stated Daniel.  
           Mr. Potter lifted his teacup and saucer. He took a sip of tea. Then he replaced the cup in its saucer before replying. “Yes,” he admitted cautiously.  
           “Might I ask how you intend to respond to that summons? I wouldn’t ask you at all,” Daniel continued quickly before Mr. Potter could reply for it truly was none of his business, “except the way you respond could be very important to Holly and yourself…” Then Daniel waited. Hopefully Mr. Potter would answer and things could continue from there.  
           Mr. Potter picked up the cup again, took another sip of the tea and then set the cup carefully back down in the saucer before speaking. “I intend to respond as I have already done so in writing to their earlier request,” he began as he returned the saucer and cup to the desk. “I will tell the people at Child Services that my cousin has made it clear he does not desire to be bothered by other witches or wizards and I will respect his wishes. I will not provide them with the Wycliff address.”  
           “Even if it means you will be arrested and may be sent to Azkaban Prison?”  
           “What?”  
           Daniel had his full attention now. Mr. Potter may be a famous hero, but he was obviously clueless to the forces working behind the scene at the Ministry. That was to be expected. Mr. Potter had never attempted to involve himself with Ministry matters. As Holly’s solicitor, Daniel had access to the file Child Services had on her. It was thin and yielded nothing about why she might have been summoned. There was no file on her parents either. Then it occurred to Daniel to request the file of Holly’s guardian, Harry Potter. That file was handed over with considerable reluctance. It proved to be much thicker and more interesting to read.  
           “Why would I be arrested?” asked Mr. Potter. “I’ve committed no crime.”  
           “I’m sure you haven’t,” agreed Daniel, “but if you refuse to reveal the address of the Wycliff family I believe you will be arrested and charged with the crime of casting an Imperius Curse.”  
           “Upon whom?” demanded Mr. Potter coldly, his green eyes blazing.  
           “You will be charged with having cast the Imperius Curse on the parents of Miss Holly Wycliff.”  
           “That is a lie!” he said flatly.  
           “So Holly assures me,” agreed Daniel in a conciliatory voice. Actually, Holly was so angry at the suggestion that she said several words Daniel didn’t think young ladies should know let alone use. That Mr. Potter didn’t immediately use the same vocabulary lent credence to her tale of a xenophobic father who didn’t like anything “wizard.” Holly obviously hadn’t learned those terms from Mr. Potter. “Unfortunately,” Daniel continued, “neither your word nor hers will be sufficient to settle this matter.”  
           “Why do they think such a thing?”  
           Daniel leaned back in his chair. “Late last December someone sent an anonymous letter to Child Services alleging that you had placed the Imperius Curse on your cousin,” he began explaining. “No one in Child Services took much stock in the accusation, but they were still obligated to check it out. That should have been a simple visit to the Wycliff residence to see if anything felt amiss. Unfortunately, the people at Child Services couldn’t find the Wycliff residence. However,” Daniel continued, “discrete interviews with those who knew you totally disregarded such a suggestion and interviews with those who knew Holly seemed to indicate the same.”  
           Daniel took a sip of his tea and then continued. “The matter would have closed there, except a second anonymous letter was received. This one again accused you of using the Imperius Curse and argued your cousin would never have signed the guardianship papers or returned her to Hogwarts without a bit of magical influence.  
           Consequently, more research was conducted. The people at Child Services confirmed the stormy relationship you had with your aunt and uncle, which no doubt extended to your cousin, and learned that, until recently, you have apparently had no contact with them for almost twenty years… In addition, though you never have been documented using an unforgivable curse, the activities of your youth tend to indicate a willingness to, ah, break the laws, under certain circumstances.” Daniel paused and then added. “Two years ago, after somehow eluding the very effective Ministry list of magical children, Holly Wycliff arrives to Hogwarts late and in a rather emaciated condition. She supposedly comes from a family with whom you have had no dealings and yet scarcely a month later you are designated her guardian. Suspicious to say the least.”  
           “But I never –”  
           Daniel raised his hand to stop Mr. Potter. “I never said you did Mr. Potter,” he hastily assured Mr. Potter. Daniel leaned forward. “I am telling you what Child Services knows and how it looks to them… The people there know more,” continued Daniel not giving Mr. Potter a chance to speak. “They knows you requested and received transfer papers for Holly last summer but the papers were never used…” Holly had clammed up on that point refusing to say anything about her father’s change of mind except that Mr. Potter had nothing to do with it. “It knows that the offers for alternate guardians were all politely declined by you but there is no evidence the offers were ever received or considered by Mr. or Mrs. Wycliff.” Daniel stopped to take a sip of tea and then continued. “Now, taken individually, these bits of information appear innocent and mean nothing. Collectively, they might still be innocent but they could take on a more sinister meaning… That’s why the people at Child Services decided to take a more direct approach and write you...” Daniel had seen the copy of the letter and the response: it had been a polite but definite refusal.  
           “Why didn’t they tell me what was going on?” questioned Mr. Potter.  
           “They couldn’t,” informed Daniel. “That would give you the opportunity to “clean up” any magical evidence before a visit could be arranged. Holly’s summons was a final attempt to resolve things without a major confrontation,” he added. “They could not tell her why she was there for the same reasons they could not tell you. But I spoiled that effort by stepping in when I did,” Daniel admitted.  
           “Yes,” agreed Mr. Potter. “And now you have told me what they were up to,” he observed quietly.  
           “I don’t happen to think there is any evidence to clean up,” replied Daniel dryly. “There isn’t, is there?” he added as if an afterthought. It was always informative to see how people responded to a direct question.  
           “No,” affirmed Mr. Potter promptly.  
           “But the people at Child Services don’t know that for sure and can’t prove it,” informed Daniel. “Lacking any other alternative, they have decided to leave the matter to the court. When you refuse to reveal their address, as they expect you to do, you will be arrested and tried. All the available evidence and information will be presented and Child Services will abide by the decision of the criminal court. I expect you will be acquitted as there is really is no evidence. But your case will make major headlines before it is concluded and no matter what the outcome, no doubt some wizards will always maintain the final decision was incorrect.”  
           Daniel paused to clear his throat. “Holly,” he began, “has agreed that she does not want her family address publicized throughout the wizard community. Neither does she wish you to be arrested and go on trial in defense of her family. But that is not the reason why I asked you here. There is one other thing I have learned.” It was something Daniel remembered reading a couple years ago. Daniel was good at remembering things.  
           “Child Services regulations specify that when a witch or wizard is charged with high crimes, the custody of any and all minors under the sole care of that person shall be awarded to the “nearest adult relative of good character and not subject to litigation or, if there are none, be made a ward of the court.”  
           “It does?”  
           “Yes.” Daniel leaned back in his chair and continued. “Note I say, “charged” not “convicted” of a high crime. Once you are charged with this crime, Child Services, already unable to contact her parents, will award custody of Miss Wycliff to someone in the Ministry.”  
           “Ginny?” suggested Mr. Potter.  
           “Your wife is not related to Miss Wycliff and only your name is listed on the paperwork,” Daniel reminded Mr. Potter. “Ginny’ll retain custody of your children, of course,” Daniel assured Mr. Potter, “but not of Holly. Given the way Holly’s father apparently feels about wizards, I believe it would be in Holly’s best interest if an alternate person were selected as her guardian as soon as possible. I need you to get the Wycliff parents to select someone else so if something happens to you she will still have a guardian of her parent’s choosing.” Mr. Potter shifted in his chair as he considered this.  
           Daniel leaned forward and looked Mr. Potter directly in the eyes. “There is a chance,” Daniel continued slowly, “that even if you reveal the Wycliff address, and her parents are found without the taint of magic, you have only delayed the inevitable. The claim will still be made that you cast a curse on the parents to get guardianship of Miss Wycliff to insure she continue attending Hogwarts. It will be alleged that you have had sufficient time to “magically clean up” and remove all evidence of your “crime” and that you did so as a matter of course. Eventually, you will be placed on trial for having cast an Imperius Curse on your cousin.”  
           “I see,” said Mr. Potter leaning back thoughtfully. “But surely if I reveal the location of her parents custody would automatically revert to them.”  
           “Logically, it should,” agreed Daniel. “Except for that bit about “free from litigation.” You see they would automatically be embroiled in litigation being the subject of your trial. As such, the case could be made that they would no longer qualify as suitable guardians. Are, uh, the grandparents still alive?” Daniel inquired delicately. He was rewarded by an instant freezing of expression on Mr. Potter’s face. Clearly the reports of his less-than-friendly relationship with them were not exaggerated.  
           “I believe so," Mr. Potter said shortly, "but I wouldn’t know how to contact them.”  
           “Then I suggest you get these papers filled out and signed immediately.” Daniel reached onto his desk, removed some papers lying on it and handed them to Mr. Potter. He took them and shuffled through the papers thoughtfully. “They need to be filed before you are scheduled to appear before Child Services,” continued Daniel. “It is very important you do this,” said Daniel. _“Very.”_ Daniel’s voice was dead serious.  
           “Oh?” Mr. Potter asked looking up from the papers.  
           “I’ve done an informal survey of the wizard community,” Daniel informed him. “This particular law was introduced and passed less than a month after your guardianship papers for Miss Wycliff were filed. Given the interrelated nature of the wizard families, at the moment,” he continued solemnly, “it can only be applied to one person: Holly Wycliff.”  
           Mr. Potter stared at Daniel with a look of shock and comprehension dawning on his face. “Someone is after Holly,” he said flatly.  
           “That would be my guess,” agreed Daniel relieved that it was more than dumb luck that enabled Mr. Potter to defeat Lord Voldemort. You never knew with Gryffindors.  
           “But why?”  
           “As to why, your guess would be as good as mine, better perhaps, because I have only recently met Holly. It could be one of your enemies, one of hers, or something about which we know nothing. There could even be some prophecy out there involving her that someone is trying to act upon…” Mr. Potter started visibly at the suggestion. “What! What is it?” asked Daniel noting his change in expression.  
           “There has been a prophecy of sorts,” Mr. Potter began tentatively. He picked up his saucer and cup and took a sip of tea. “Just recently.”  
           “A prophecy?” questioned Daniel with interest. “Of course—she’s taking Divination. Madam Trelawney is known for casting all sorts of predictions for the students in her class. Was it a regular prediction or one in a gravelly voice?”  
           “Gravelly?” questioned Mr. Potter. He took another sip of tea and watched Daniel closely.  
           “Yes, you might not know it but she sometimes did predictions after class in a gravelly kind of voice,” Daniel informed him. “I got one of those,” he added. “Though I could never make much head or tails of it.”  
           “You did?”  
           “Yes. Would you like to hear it?” Daniel guessed if he shared the one he received, Mr. Potter might be inclined to do the same…  
           “I would,” said Mr. Potter with interest.  
           Daniel set down his saucer, took a deep breath and began to recite.

_“When the chair seizes the wandless child, the one who prepares the lunch shall free the green-eyed girl who would redo the world…”_

          Mr. Potter coughed suddenly and hastily took a sip of tea.  
           “It means something to you?” asked Daniel curiously noting Mr. Potter’s reaction with considerable interest. Daniel had puzzled over the strange words off and on for years wondering if they truly held a meaning of some sort.  
           “Well,” began Mr. Potter slowly after he took another sip of tea before setting the cup down, “I’m not really qualified to interpret prophecies but I think Holly would like to hear yours. Perhaps you should mention it to her some time.”  
           “I will.” Qualified or not, Daniel was certain Mr. Potter knew exactly what the prophecy meant. But Daniel didn’t press for a further explanation deciding instead to take Mr. Potter’s advice. Mr. Potter no doubt had a very good reason for making the suggestion he had and Holly _did_ have green eyes… “But we digress needlessly,” added Daniel aloud deciding suddenly that prophecies could be discussed at a later date. “I mustn’t keep you from your other activities…” Daniel looked pointedly at the papers in Mr. Potter’s hand. “So if there’s no other questions—”  
           “Actually,” interrupted Mr. Potter. “I do have a few.”  
           “Oh?”  
           “What can you tell me about the anonymous letters?”  
           Daniel closed his eyes remembering. He hadn’t been permitted to remove any of the papers in the file, of course, but that didn’t matter. Daniel had an excellent memory… “Standard nondescript parchment,” he began, “Memo quill handwriting; the first one simply said, “Harry Potter cast an Imperious Curse on his family to gain guardianship of his Empath cousin.” The second letter,” he reported, “was of the same type of paper and writing. It said: “Harry Potter cast an Imperious Curse on his family to gain guardianship of his Empath cousin.” again and then added, “Rita is right. Only an Imperious Curse could keep Miss Wycliff attending Hogwarts. Do not be misled by his hero status. Harry Potter is a bank thief known to have associated with werewolves and mass murderers. Old habits never die…”  
           “Bank thief, werewolves and mass murderers?” said Mr. Potter suddenly very interested. “The letter said that? Exactly that?”  
           “Yes, exactly that,” confirmed Daniel. “It mean something to you?”  
           “Yes, it does,” agreed Mr. Potter thoughtfully.  
           “What?”  
           “I may know who,” he answered carefully, “but not why…”  
           “Who?”  
           Mr. Potter shook his head. “I need to do some investigating first. It wouldn’t do to make any accusations without proof… What about this charge of casting an Imperius Curse?” he asked. “How can I go about clearing my name?”  
           “Get yourself a solicitor,” advised Daniel promptly. “A good one. It is difficult to prove an Imperius Curse charge, but equally difficult to disprove.”  
           “What happens if I give out the Wycliff address?”  
           “Well, you would remain in the court while someone from Child Services and someone knowledgeable in the effects of an Imperius Curse visit the Wycliffs to “confirm” the information. While there, they’ll ask some specific questions looking for gaps and other signs of magical influence.”  
           “They’ll find nothing,” Mr. Potter assured Daniel.  
           “And then you’ll be free to leave the court,” agreed Daniel, “but later, I suspect someone will “suggest” you had sufficient time to modify memories in advance… Perhaps the anonymous letter writer will write again and the charges will be repeated…with more visits and more questions, perhaps some Veritaserum…”  
           “It’ll never end,” Mr. Potter concluded bleakly.  
           “Oh, they’ll eventually quit questioning the Wycliffs and will probably fix it so the Wycliffs never remember a thing. And you’ll be released for lack of evidence, but because you’ve no witnesses at the time when you’ve been accused of casting the spells there will be some who always say you did it.”  
           “Witnesses? What sort of witnesses?”  
           “Someone who knows the Wycliff family besides you, someone who can attest these decisions were made of their free will.” Given the Wycliff isolation from the wizard community Daniel knew that was an unlikely prospect. “Your friends and family could testify on your behalf, but they might not be considered “credible” enough,” Daniel continued on the off chance they had met the Wycliffs, “as it could be reasonably argued that they were biased. And anyone who meets them now could not report on past events. Ideally,” Daniel added thoughtfully, “you need a reliable witness who met them ages ago before all this mess happened, someone reputable and unbiased … But unfortunately, you can’t rewind time now…”  
           “No,” agreed Mr. Potter thoughtfully with a strange look on his face. “You can’t. But you’ve given me an idea…” Suddenly Mr. Potter straightened in his chair. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he told Daniel abruptly. He set his teacup and saucer on the desk. “Most informative, in fact,” he added with a glint in his green eyes. “But I must be going now.” Mr. Potter folded the papers Daniel had given him, tucked them in his pocket and rose from his seat. “As you surmised,” he continued, “I have much to do and very little time in which to accomplish it.”  
           Daniel rose from his seat also. “Thank you for coming,” he told Mr. Potter and offered his hand.  
           “No,” Mr. Potter said sincerely as he shook Daniel’s hand warmly, “thank you.”  
           Daniel smiled. “Mr. Potter,” he called out as Mr. Potter was preparing to leave.”  
           “Yes?”  
           “When this is all over you might want to cast some renewing spells.”  
           “Huh?”  
           “Around the Wycliffs to keep the spells intact.”  
           “What?” The confusion in Mr. Potter’s face confirmed the other suspicion Daniel had.  
           “You really don’t know, do you?” Daniel asked gently.  
           “Know what?”  
           “For a while, I thought maybe your friend Mrs. Weasley might have done it,” he continued, “she’s reputed to be rather gifted with magic, but she didn’t, did she?”  
           “Do what?” asked Mr. Potter his face unmistakably blank.  
           “They’re unplottable!”  
           “What?”  
           “The Wycliffs! They’re unplottable!”  
           “I don’t understand…”  
           “That’s why Rita and all her associates haven’t been able to find them, why the Ministry of Magic missed Miss Wycliff on its list of those eligible to attend Hogwarts; they can’t be found.”  
           “I, ah, didn’t know people could be made unplottable.”  
           “Me neither,” agreed Daniel, “but that’s what appears to have been done. It had to be some pretty fancy magic too. If you didn’t do it then it must have been your other friends, the ones in the Order of the Phoenix,” guessed Daniel. “They did it when you went into hiding before the Battle of Hogwarts, right?”  
           “Uh, yeah, I guess.”  
           “And they never told you?”  
           “No.”  
           “The Wycliffs shouldn’t have been found, ever,” Daniel mused. “How did you find them?”  
           “Holly was sick and Du-Dillon found me.”  
           “That would be the only way,” agreed Daniel. “And in doing so, he made you Secret Keeper. Your friends must have cared very much for you to have gone to so much trouble to protect your family,” he added kindly.  
           “Yes,” agreed Mr. Potter quietly. “They were very good friends.” Daniel could see a haunted look in Mr. Potter’s eyes as he spoke. Clearly their loss had affected him deeply. “Thank you,” said Mr. Potter softly his face still lost in thought and he walked out of sight.

********************

          A soft knock sounded on the office door. “Enter,” said Minerva McGonagall in a calm voice. The door swung open. Holly and Prefect Gwen stepped into the room. Holly’s eyes immediately flew up to the wall above Minerva no doubt seeking comfort and reassurance with what she found there. “Thank you Miss Feinstein,” said Minerva calmly. “There is no need to wait tonight,” she told the Prefect. “I’ll see that Miss Wycliff is returned safely.”  
           “Yes, ma’am,” said Gwen quietly. She turned around and left the room. The office door swung shut behind her.  
           Harry Potter stepped forward from the back room where he had been waiting. The movement attracted Holly’s eye.  
           “Cousin Harry!” she said delightedly. “What are you doing here?”  
           “I’m here to take you home,” he told her quietly. “There’s an emergency…”  
           Holly’s features immediately turned to alarm. “Grandfather!” she questioned. “Has something happened?”  
           “I’ll explain along the way, Holly,” said Harry avoiding her question. “Come along,” he told her. “We haven’t much time…” Harry stepped towards the door. “Thank you,” he told Minerva quietly when he reached the entrance. “I’ll be in touch.” Minerva nodded silently. Harry opened the door and moved through. Holly followed.

********************

           “What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Holly worriedly as they hurried down the corridor.  
           “Nothing’s wrong,” Harry Potter assured her. Then he added, “To the best of my knowledge your grandparents are fine, as are your parents.”  
           “But you said an “emergency!” insisted Holly stopping in her tracks demanding an answer.  
           “The “emergency” is mine, not yours,” Harry told her quietly. “Come on,” he added moving forward again. It was late at night and few students were out of their dorm at this hour but Harry did not wish to linger at Hogwarts longer than necessary and run more risk of being seen. He was doing nothing wrong, of course, but Harry did not want word of his activities to become widely known and perhaps reach the ears of someone he didn’t want to know, someone after Holly.  
           “What do you mean?” asked Holly hurrying to catch up.  
           They started down the stairs before Harry stopped to answer. “I appear before Child Services tomorrow,” he reminded calmly.  
           “Oh.”  
           “Let’s wait until we’re outside before we continue talking,” Harry suggested and he again started down the stairs.  
           They finished the stairs and walked out the entrance before Holly spoke again. “Are you going to give them my parent’s address?” she asked as they got into the waiting carriage. The thestrals harnessed to it began a steady walk forward.  
           “No, Holly, I’m not,” Harry assured her. Nor would he ever. Not after what Wizard Pilkington had told him. Pilkington’s words had struck Harry like a shot from the past!  
           “Don’t worry,” Mad Eye had assured him. “We’ll take care of them, make sure no wizard can find them!” Harry had no idea how true those words had been. It was probably one of the last, if not the last spell Mad Eye had crafted or helped to craft before that wild ride from Privot Drive when he had died. It was his gift to Harry, one Harry intended to cherish as long as he lived.  
           “No!” Holly whispered with true anguish. “I don’t want you to go to Azkaban on account of my family!”  
           “I have no intention of going to Azkaban,” Harry told her firmly. “I have an idea.”  
           “You do?” she asked wide eyed.  
           “Yes, but I can’t do it if I am worrying about you,” he told her. “That’s why I’m taking you to your parents tonight. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ll be safe with your family.”  
           “Oh,” replied Holly. They continued riding passing through the gates of Hogwarts. Presently Holly spoke again. “How are we going to my parents’ house?” she asked.  
           “I had thought we might Apparate,” replied Harry calmly.  
           “Apparate?” exploded Holly. “Oh, no, sir! I can’t Apparate! Not now, not ever!” And Harry heard all about the awful time Holly had had with Witch Bulstrode and her trip to the Ministry of Magic including the flashback she had experienced after Witch Bulstrode unwrapped her sandwich. “It would have to be roast beef!” Holly complained. “And the next thing I remembered I was hiding out in a corridor clutching my wand!” Holly was adamant that she never Apparate again under any circumstances.  
           Then the two rode on in silence down the road while Harry considered the situation. They could use Floo powder, if he had thought to bring some and if there was a flue nearby, which there wasn’t… They could go back to the castle and ask Hagrid if they could borrow his motorcycle but at this hour the trip would take too long and they would arrive well after he was expected to appear in front of Child Services... He could enchant something turning it into a port key, if he knew how, or… “If I recall,” Harry began slowly, “You also Apparated with Wizard Pilkington in that other world. Was that experience as bad?”  
           “No,” admitted Holly.  
           “Why do you think that was?”  
           “Well, I wasn’t scared of him,” answered Holly thoughtfully. “Flint was a Slytherin, too, of course,”  
           “As was Witch Bulstrode,” affirmed Harry thoughtfully. Then he added, “I think there was something else.”  
           “Oh?”  
           “If I recall, you said Wizard Pilkington offered his hand,” Harry held out his hand, “and you took it.”  
           Holly stared at the offered hand in absolute panic. “No!” she whispered looking up at Harry.  Absolute terror filled her moonlit face. “You can’t expect me to—” she broke off unable to continue.  
           Harry said nothing. He merely waited, his hand extended. It stayed there for a very long time. The silence between them grew long. Only the sound of the carriage rolling steadily on the road could be heard. _“I hope this works,”_ worried Harry to himself.  
           Finally Holly gulped. She took a deep breath. Her hand shook as she lifted it. Her trembling fingers touched Harry. He waited until it was firmly attached to his hand and then Harry Apparated.  
           They materialized on the sidewalk outside the Wycliff residence. Harry stood silently waiting for Holly to move first. Finally she shifted and released her grip from Harry’s hand. “That better?” he asked her softly.  
           “Yes,” Holly whispered. “Thank you so much!” she exclaimed impulsively hugging Harry.  
           “Mmmm,” said Harry returning the hug. “Glad I could help.” He wished her other problems could be solved as easily. “Your parents are expecting you,” Harry told Holly. “Shall we let them know you’re here?”  
           “Yes, sir,” she agreed. The two walked up towards the front door. The front porch light was on and seemed to welcome them.  
           “I’ve only told your parents to expect you,” said Harry conversationally, “but not why. Feel free to make any explanation you feel necessary. Oh, and here.” Harry pulled out and handed Holly several folded papers. “These are the documents for an alternate guardian. Discuss it with your parents and fill them out when you’re ready. I’ll make sure they get filed properly.”  
           “Yes, sir.” Harry reached out and knocked lightly on the front door. It opened almost immediately. “Mum!” greeted Holly swiftly moving into Laurel’s welcoming arms.  
           “Ma’am,” said Harry briefly nodding his head towards Laurel.  
           “Mr. Potter,” Laurel murmured.  
           “What’s this all about?” came a gruff voice from behind Laurel. Harry recognized Dudley’s surly form coming forward.  
           “Holly will explain things,” Harry replied keeping his voice light and calm. “I’ve got to be going. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Holly looking down at her.  
           “You promise?” Holly asked fixing her green eyes on Harry.  
           Harry paused. “No,” he answered softly acknowledging the severity of the situation. “I won’t promise. But I’ll try my best. Good night, Holly, Mr. and Mrs. Wycliff.” And he gave a brief bow before stepping back from the front door. When he was well away from the Wycliff residence, Harry Apparated home.

********************

          It was a crisp spring morning, clear and sunny but cool, not that anyone would notice within the Ministry of Magic. Climate and weather was always strictly controlled inside the Ministry unless there was some sort of magic glitch. Usually it was a “nice day” without any variety.  
           Daniel Pilkington entered the Child Services Courtroom. He was very early and the room was rather empty but that would change soon. Daniel studied the room. It was rather small unlike that intimidating place they used last week. The bench in front was raised only a meter off the floor. The dock was a simple self-adjusting podium that raised and lowered its height according to the size of the person standing behind it and the gallery could seat only a few people. Of course, the gallery would expand, if necessary, to accommodate a larger number of people using it insuring there was always at least one empty space to sit. Recorder Abercrombie was already seated at a small table in front besides the bench. Next to her sat Herald Bertram. A bailiff stood by the small door in the front of the room.  
           Daniel selected a seat near the front off to the side where he could quickly stand and address the court with motions if necessary. Daniel could also easily watch the other people coming in. He sat down and looked about.  
           Rita Skeeter was seated in the corner with her quill already up and busily writing. She looked at him curiously and then returned to writing. Her presence was no surprise considering Mr. Potter’s name had been publicly posted on the list for a week; Rita tended to attend every function Harry Potter attended. Did she know about the address request, charges and possible arrest? Most likely. Rita had good sources within the Ministry. Daniel considered whether Rita had written and submitted the original anonymous letter but discarded the idea. A private letter like that had kept things confidential and sold no papers.  
           Wizard Goldstein walked in. He was a solicitor, and a very good one, but not, Daniel thought privately, as good as himself. He was probably there as Mr. Potter’s Solicitor. Child law wasn’t his specialty, but like Daniel, Wizard Goldstein had an excellent memory and was very flexible. More important, Anthony Goldstein was once a member of Dumbledore’s Army. It was logical that Mr. Potter would seek help from someone he personally knew. Participation in that group had no doubt created ties stronger than ordinary friendship.  
           Three interns walked in and quietly took their seats. They got their quills out ready to observe and take notes. After a while Harry Potter came in with his wife Ginny by his side. He paused briefly at the entrance glancing around the room. His calm expression seemed to freeze at the presence of Rita Skeeter. Then his gaze lingered at the presence of Wizard Goldstein. Goldstein nodded almost imperceptibly at Mr. Potter and he nodded back. Then Mr. Potter continued to survey the room his green eyes pausing briefly to meet Daniel’s gaze before moving on without expressing recognition. Mr. Potter and his wife both took a seat in the gallery near the front.  
           Daniel was fairly certain Mr. Potter had decided to not reveal the Wycliff address. Otherwise, Anthony would have surely advised him to request a closed session. In that way, Mr. Potter could have provided the address in such a way as to bind the Child Services Officials by the rules of unplottable locations. On the off chance Mr. Potter did decide to reveal the address, Daniel had a gag order ready to submit preventing it. Holly was adamant that other wizards not bother her family.  
           Daniel hoped Mr. Potter had gotten those guardianship papers filed. If not, he had a petition ready to submit naming Professor Iverson as Miss Wycliff’s temporary guardian. Daniel planned to argue that Professor Iverson already knew Miss Wycliff from school making a guardianship transition less stressful. She had readily agreed to the hasty guardianship proposal and had already signed the papers necessary for the required background check.  
           Ron and Hermione Weasley came in and sat down behind the Potters. That was no surprise. Mr. Potter was rarely without his two best friends. Some more wizards filed in: the Clerk, who sat near the Recorder, a couple of Aurors, who sat in the second row, and some minor Ministry Officials.  
           The small door in front opened. “All Rise,” began the Bailiff in a deep solemn voice, “for Honorable Branstone, Belby and Zabini.” Everyone hastened to stand. The Child Services Officials, Witch Branstone, Wizards Belby and Zabini walked in. They wore their slate gray robes with gold trim and Glengarry hats with maroon rosettes. The three stepped up into their bench and sat down. “You may be seated,” the Bailiff told the rest of the people in the room.  
           As he was sitting, several other wizards slipped into the room and sat down filling the benches to capacity. Daniel recognized them all; some he knew to be friends of Mr. Potter and others were acknowledged foes. Clearly word had gotten out about this Inquiry. Among those who had just entered Daniel noted Healer Winonan. The healer was dressed in non-descript black wizard robes instead of his usual lime green colors. Leila wrote that Holly visited the Infirmary regularly implying some sort of medical problem. Daniel knew Healer Winonan had first diagnosed Holly as an Empath and was her healer of record. He probably still provided medical treatment through Madam Pomfrey. Did the Healer know  what had happened with Holly at the Ministry last week? If not, should someone tell him? His presence and testimony could come in useful should Daniel need to argue the selection of a guardian had to take into account Holly’s physical and/or mental health.  
           “First on the docket: Mr. Harry Potter on a matter of Inquiry,” boomed Herald Bertram’s voice. Amazing how such a loud voice could come out of such a skinny person. “Mr. Potter? Would you please step to the docks?” A low murmur of interest rippled through the gallery as Mr. Potter stood up. He stepped carefully out of the gallery and made his way to the podium. The room grew deathly quiet waiting for what would happen next.  
           “You are Harry James Potter?” asked Wizard Zabini in a cold stern voice.  
           “Yes,” answered Mr. Potter.  
           “You are cousin of and guardian on record to Miss Holly Ann Wycliff while she attends Hogwarts?”  
           “Yes.”  
           “Do you know why you have been asked here?” asked Witch Branstone in a more kindly voice.  
           “I presume it has something to do with the letter I received from your office a few weeks ago,” answered Mr. Potter in a quiet even voice.  
           “That is correct,” said Wizard Belby. His right eye twitched nervously as he spoke. “I ask you now: What is the residence address of the Wycliff family?”  
           “I respectfully ask why you wish this information,” replied Mr. Potter calmly.  
           The three on the bench looked at each other and then Witch Branstone said: “I’m afraid we cannot answer you. But I assure you that receipt of this information is very important.”  
           “That may be so,” agreed Mr. Potter evenly, “but I can only conclude the reason you want this address is to visit my cousin. My cousin has made it clear that he does not wish to be visited by any of, uh, our kind. Without a serious and compelling reason otherwise, I intend to respect his wishes.”  
           “In other words, you refuse to give us the address?” put in Wizard Zabini.  
           “That is correct.”  
           The three again looked at each other before looking back at Mr. Potter. “Then I am afraid you give us no choice,” said Witch Branstone in a sorrowful voice.  
           “Bailiff!” boomed Wizard Zabini. “Take Mr. Potter into custody!”  
           “What!” exclaimed Mr. Potter as the Bailiff moved forward and seized his arm. “On what charge?” demanded Mr. Potter making no effort to resist. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”  
           Witch Branstone raised her hand briefly signaling the Bailiff to stop. He released Mr. Potter but stood near him ready to continue his original task.  
           “The charge is casting an Imperius Curse on Dillon and Laurel Wycliff!” informed Wizard Zabini coldly. “Is that a serious and compelling enough reason?”


	40. Chapter 40

          The knock on the door sounded insistent and loud. “Enter,” said Minerva McGonagall in a firm voice. The door opened and Wizard Adrian Pucey in green and gold robes strode in. He was a tall man who had once been chaser on the Slytherin school quidditch team.  
          “Good morning, McGonagall,” he said in a brisk and commanding voice.  
          “Good morning Mr. Pucey,” Minerva politely greeted in return. “What brings you here today?”  
          “Official business," he announced importantly.  "I’m here to see Miss Wycliff.”  
          “Oh?” Minerva raised an eyebrow. “During class? Might I ask why?  
          “You may,” he said proudly. “I am her new guardian and we need to talk.” He handed Minerva a sheaf of important looking documents all bearing the Ministry of Magic / Child Services seal.  
          “Guardian?” questioned Minerva looking through the parchments noting the names and signatures. “I was under the impression Mr. Potter was her guardian.”  
          “He was,” agreed Adrian in a condescending voice. “But this morning he got charged with casting an _Imperius Curse_ … Can’t have our children being watched over by someone like that!” he said righteously. “That’s why Miss Wycliff was immediately made a ward of the court and the court has appointed me her new guardian! Now, please have Miss Wycliff brought here at once,” he ordered imperiously. “We have things to discuss.”  
          “I am afraid I cannot help you,” replied Minerva politely adding a touch of regret to her voice. She rolled up the parchments carefully and returned them to Adrian.  
          “You dare to refuse the command of an official of the Ministry?” threatened Adrian in a dangerous sounding voice.  
          “Not at all,” replied Minerva calmly. “I mean I cannot comply with your request because Miss Wycliff is currently not at Hogwarts!”  
          “What?” exploded Adrian! “Where is she?” he demanded.  
          “I imagine with her parents,” replied Minerva blandly.  
          “Her parents!” exclaimed Adrian! “How can that be?”  
          “Well, Mr. Potter came late last night and said there was some sort of family emergency,” began Minerva explaining. Harry had said a lot more, but nothing Adrian needed to know. “So he took her home.”  
          “But,” sputtered Adrian, “he can’t do that!!!”  
          “On the contrary,” corrected Minerva calmly. “Mr. Potter was still Miss Wycliff’s legal guardian yesterday and as such had every right to remove her from school and return her to her family.” Adrian’s face took on a rather blank expression as he tried to process this information. Minerva moved up to him. “I’ll let you know when Miss Wycliff returns and you can come back then,” she continued smoothly, “unless, of course, Mr. Potter has been cleared or her parents decide to file new papers assigning someone else as her guardian… Did you happen to send them a resume?” Minerva asked while remembering all the owls that had visited Holly recently. “Now, I’m sure you have other things to do with your time as do I,” Minerva added as she stepped very close to Adrian invading his personal space and forcing him to back away. “Good day, Mr. Pucey,” she added while heading him towards the door. “Thank you for coming,” she finished dismissing him.  
          Minerva waited until Adrian had left the room and closed the door behind him with obvious relief. She had been appalled when Harry had suggested Holly’s safety might be at risk and amazed at the speed with which Child Services had moved to take custody of her. If the Inquiry had started on time, Harry’s scheduled appearance would have scarcely begun five minutes before Adrian’s arrival. Minerva was glad Holly was safe with her family knowing Harry would never give up their location. She hoped Harry would be equally successful in eluding the trap that had been laid for him.

*********************

          “I have never touched my cousin magically,” said Harry Potter indignantly as he stood at the docks. “Who accuses me?”  
          “We received a letter accusing you of this,” said Witch Branstone formally.  
          “From whom!” demanded Mr. Potter icily.  
          “The letter was unsigned,” admitted Witch Branstone.  
          “And you take the word of an unknown writer over mine?”  
          “All accusations, however frivolous sounding, must be investigated,” put in Wizard Belby as his eye twitched. “In your case, we were unable to confirm or disprove the allegation because we could not locate the family in question. We have, however, been able to verify sufficient circumstantial information to suggest such an accusation is within the realm of possibility forcing us to take action to resolve the situation. Now that you know the reason for our request,” he added, “will you provide us the address so our representatives may visit the Wycliff residence to see for ourselves if such a curse has been cast?”  
          A long silence followed in which a pin could have been heard dropping in the gallery while Mr. Potter considered his answer. Finally he spoke. “If a representative were to visit my cousin today and found nothing amiss, as there is nothing to find, would that clear my name and put an end to these charges?”  
          “If there is nothing amiss,” replied Wizard Belby, his right eye began to twitch constantly, “all charges today will be dropped.”  
          “And would my name be cleared?” persisted Mr. Potter.  
          A long silence followed while the three at the bench looked at each other before responding. “No, Mr. Potter, it wouldn’t,” admitted Witch Branstone finally. “It would lend weight to your assertion nothing happened and would be sufficient for our purposes at the moment as it _is_ an anonymous letter. But, because of the time factors involved, in all honesty, a visit to the Wycliff residence today would not conclusively prove an _Imperius Curse_ was never cast in the first place therefore some doubt would always remain.”  
          “Then I see no reason to disturb my cousin,” replied Mr. Potter calmly.  
          “And we must continue what we have begun,” replied Witch Branstone sadly. “You now face charges of having used the _Imperius Curse_ on Dillon and Laurel Wycliff.” She nodded her head towards the Bailiff and he again took hold of Mr. Potter’s arm.  
          “There must be some other way to clear my name besides a trial,” insisted Mr. Potter refusing to move from the docks. “Veritaserum?”  
          The Bailiff froze and a collective gasp ran through the gallery. Veritaserum was reserved for only for those accused of the most serious of crimes and then only under the most dire of circumstances. By merely suggesting it’s use Mr. Potter had gone far towards establishing his innocence yet had opened himself to public scrutiny. It was a bold move and explained why Harry Potter had not requested a closed session. A declaration of innocence made in full public while under the influence of Veritaserum would clear his name and could not be swept under a rug. But it was also a very risky proposition. A poorly worded question could do more damage than good when answered. No doubt that was why Anthony was there—to insure the questions asked were not out of bounds.  
          “There’s no need to go to such lengths,” Wizard Belby hastened to say in a conciliatory voice. Daniel grinned inwardly at his reaction. No doubt the wizard realized it wouldn’t look good for Child Services’ image to insist the famous Harry Potter take Veritaserum. Such an option would have never been suggested, had not Mr. Potter mentioned it first. “We just need a witness,” the wizard continued, “someone who was there at the time and can confirm your version of events…” Not that Mr. Potter had provided any version… “Now, who was there when the guardianship papers were first proposed and signed?”  
          “You think I cast an _Imperius Curse_ to gain guardianship of Holly?” asked Mr. Potter in a voice of total disbelief. If Daniel didn’t know better he would have thought this was the first time Mr. Potter had heard any of this.  
          “That is the claim,” confirmed Wizard Belby. “So, who was there when the papers were signed?”  
          “Mrs. Wycliff.”  
          “Yes, of course she was there,” agreed Wizard Belby sounding a bit flustered. His eye started twitching again. “She had to be; she signed the papers,” he confirmed,“but who else?”  
          “No one,” replied Mr. Potter calmly. “None was required.”  
          “True, true,” agreed the wizard. “Clearly an oversight from our legal department. Such documents should always require a third party witness. And they will in the future. Make a note of that Miss Abercrombie,” he added. Miss Abercrombie nodded and continued writing.  
          “What about the second time?” put in Witch Branstone.  
          “Second time?” questioned Mr. Potter.  
          “Yes. Only last summer you requested and received transcripts for Miss Wycliff so she could transfer to a Muggle school. Then, in July you notified Headmistress McGonagall that Miss Wycliff would be attending Hogwarts. It has been alleged you caused this change thorough the use of an _Imperius Curse_.”  
          “I did not.”  
          “What, then, was the reason for this change?”  
          “You would have to ask Mr. Wycliff,” replied Mr. Potter stiffly.  
          “We would like to,” agreed Witch Branstone, “if he were available to question…” her voice trailed off as she looked hopefully into Mr. Potter’s face. Daniel could only guess at what she saw. Something very big must have happened to change Mr. Wycliff’s mind, something clearly neither Holly nor Mr. Potter would discuss. “But what about witnesses?” Witch Branstone persisted. “Were there any witnesses to this change of mind?”  
          “I believe that would be me!” boomed a voice from the gallery. Everyone’s head swiveled trying to see the source of the voice.  
          “Healer Winonan!” identified Wizard Zabini in an authoritative voice. “You have something to say on this matter?”  
          “I do,” replied Healer Winonan loudly. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, I think this charge of Mr. Potter casting an _Imperius Curse_ on the Wycliffs is total _poppycock!_ ” A collective gasp rose up from the gallery! One just didn’t say things like that in court.  
          Wizard Zabini frowned; Witch Branstone and Wizard Belby both began coughing and covered their mouths quickly. “Do you, uh, base that statement on something besides personal opinion?” Wizard Belby finally asked in a choking voice.  
          “I do.”  
          “Please step forward,” invited Witch Branstone after giving a final cough to clear her throat. The people in the gallery moved aside permitting Healer Winonan to come to the docks. At a glance from Wizard Belby, the Bailiff released Mr. Potter’s arm permitting him to return to the gallery and sit. The podium shrank to accommodate Healer Winonan’s shorter size.  
          “How is it you happen to know the Wycliffs?” asked Witch Branstone.  
          “Their daughter Holly is one of my patients,” replied the healer.  
          “But doesn’t Mr. Potter accompany Miss Wycliff for all scheduled appointments?” put in Wizard Belby.  
          “This is true,” came the reply.  
          "Then you have had no occasion to meet her parents,” concluded Wizard Belby in a regretful tone while his eye twitched several times. Daniel guessed Child Services had already visited St. Mungo’s when making initial inquiries on this case.  
          “On the contrary,” said Healer Winonan. “I’ve met both of her parents.” A ripple of interest swept through the courtroom. Even Daniel hadn’t realized someone besides the Potters or, perhaps, the Weasleys knew the Wycliffs.  
          “You have?” asked Wizard Zabini in open disbelief.  
          “I have,” replied the Healer firmly.  
          “But I thought the Wycliffs didn’t, uh, like our kind,” began Witch Branstone delicately nodding towards Mr. Potter no doubt referring to his earlier statement and refusal to reveal their address.  
          “Oh, he doesn’t!” agreed Healer Winonan heartily. “Not so sure about her, mind you, but Mr. Wycliff is extremely xenophobic! There’s no doubt about that. He is also a very _devoted_ father and it’s amazing the things one will do as a parent.”  
           Daniel could almost feel the buzz throughout the courtroom. In a single sentence Winonan had explained several pieces of information that would otherwise have been used as circumstantial evidence against Harry Potter in an _Imperius Curse_ case. In addition, he had answered the question Rita had posed day after day during the past months in the _Prophet_ : why would two known enemies suddenly choose to work together?  
          The impact was even greater because it was _not_ an explanation offered by Harry Potter. For the first time Daniel truly appreciated Mr. Potter’s long time policy of not responding to Rita’s news articles. Daniel doubted the explanation of parental love would have sounded nearly as convincing coming from Mr. Potter’s lips.  
          “When did this meeting take place?” asked Wizard Zabini suspiciously. It was a valid question. Mr. Potter could have easily arranged a meeting over the weekend to secure an unbiased witness.  
          “I met Mr. and Mrs. Wycliff last June,” replied Winonan blandly. The whole courtroom erupted in noise! If true, it would have been near the time when the second _Imperius Curse_ , if there had been one, would have been cast...  
          “Silence!” ordered Wizard Zabini rapping his wand, which had suddenly turned into a gavel, rapidly on the counter in front of him. Silence slowly returned to the courtroom. “Exactly when in June?” demanded Wizard Zabini.  
          “I’d have to check my records to be sure,” began the Healer, “but if I recall, it was the last part of June, probably right before Mr. Potter contacted Headmistress McGonagall…”  
          “What would make you think that?” asked Wizard Belby.  
          “Well, it was something I overheard Mr. Wycliff say to Mr. Potter,” explained Healer Winonan calmly. “It didn’t make much sense at the time as I had no idea there were plans to transfer Miss Wycliff _from_ Hogwarts, but knowing what I know now …” he paused reflectively.  
          “Well!” demanded Wizard Zabini unable to contain his impatience, “What did he say?”  
          “He told Mr. Potter that Holly would be returning to _that school_ again.” The noise in the courtroom earlier was nothing compared to the noise after that statement. It took several minutes before Wizard Zabini could again regain order.  
          “What did Mr. Potter say?” asked Wizard Belby curiously when they could again be heard.  
          “He said he’d “take care of it.” That’s all. Like I said before, I couldn’t imagine what they were talking about but by the way Mr. Wycliff spat out the words _that school_ , and knowing how he feels about us, he could have only referred to Hogwarts.”  
          “It sounds rather suspicious that you just _happened_ to be at the Wycliff residence in time to “overhear” a such crucial piece of information,” commented Wizard Zabini in a sneering voice. The insinuation was clear—Mr. Potter had somehow managed to convince Healer Winonan to lie for him or had cast yet a third _Imperius Curse_ to clear his name…  
          “Oh, I wasn’t at the Wycliff residence,” corrected Healer Winonan. “I’ve never been there. I was at St. Mungo’s at the time.”  
          “St. Mungo’s?” questioned Witch Branstone in surprise. “Why there?  
          “That’s where I work,” replied the Healer succinctly.  
          “There are no Wycliffs listed as having been admitted to St. Mungo’s,” informed Wizard Belby in the stunned silence that followed. “Why would someone as xenophobic as you describe visit St. Mungo’s?  
          “For medical reasons, of course,” informed Healer Winonan. “And the admission was made under the Weasley name because he was the one who brought Miss Wycliff in…” he added explaining further.  
          “Perhaps you’d best tell us what happened,” suggested Witch Branstone.  
          “There isn’t much I can say,” began the Healer. “The Wycliff children were brought into St. Mungo’s…”  
          “Children?” echoed Witch Branstone.  
          “Yes, two of them,” explained Winonan impatiently. “Miss Wycliff and her Muggle brother. The parents arrived later and—”  
          “Both of them?”  
          “Of course both of them! What do you expect? Their children were injured!” Winonan replied testily. He clearly didn’t like being interrupted.  
          “Excuse me, but what was wrong?” questioned Wizard Zabini.  
          “It was a medical emergency and beyond that I won’t say,” replied the healer. “All such matters are kept in strictest confidence. The important part is that the Wycliffs spent the night at St. Mungo’s with their children…”  
          Daniel stared at the Healer in surprise. That meant the Wycliffs would have slept in the Muggle Ward. Could it be? The timing was right… But no, it was too much of a coincidence!  
          “Where was Mr. Potter during this time?” questioned Wizard Zabini suspiciously.  
          “Mr. Potter? He checked the children in and, after showing the Wycliff parents the Muggle entrance, I imagine he went home to be with his own family. At least he didn’t spend the night at St. Mungo’s. Mr. Potter returned the next day when I did my check-out exam… You may or may not be aware,” continued the Healer blandly, “but ever since that unfortunate incident with Broderick, the hospital administration has developed and placed several spells in and around St. Mungo’s designed to reveal, prevent, and counter-act the effects of an _Imperius Curse_. The longer one remains in St. Mungo’s the stronger these spells become. Given the length of their visit, I would have known immediately had the Wycliffs been under an _Imperius Curse_. The statement I quoted you was made to Mr. Potter after a night at St. Mungo’s so I know with absolute certainty it was not made while under the influence of an _Imperius Curse_. And if I may add,” Healer Winonan continued twisting around and looking accusingly at Rita Skeeter. “I take a dim view of you suggesting I do _anything_ for the personal benefit of Mr. Potter or any other person of fame or notoriety! My first concern is and has always been for my patients. The medical crisis was already bad enough without forcing the additional stress of unnecessary wizard presences upon the family!”  
_It was!_ Daniel well remembered the scathing articles Rita had written about Harry Potter’s abuse of influence at St. Mungo’s causing them to seal off the whole Muggle ward. That had to have been when the Wycliffs were there! From the look on their faces, Daniel could tell the three Child Services Officials remembered those articles as well! They had been printed the first part of July… And though no one had mentioned the specific date Mr. Potter had contacted the Headmistress, Daniel was certain the dates coincided! No one could claim Healer Winonan’s testimony was an _Imperius_ trick cooked up at the last minute—not with the independent confirmation of Rita’s articles!  
          The three officials looked wordlessly at each other and slowly nodded their heads. Wizard Zabini was last to nod. Then Witch Branstone turned to face the gallery and smiled. “Clearly the accusations of casting an _Imperius Curse_ have no basis,” she began. “All charges against Mr. Potter are dropped!” She briskly rapped her transfigured wand once against the bench. “This Inquiry is over!”  
          The whole courtroom erupted with noise—mostly cheers as people rose and clapped Mr. Potter on the back in congratulations. Daniel couldn’t help but notice Rita Skeeter had a distinctive frown on her face as she pushed her way out the door. It was not the kind of news she liked to report.  
          “Ten minute break,” announced Wizard Belby over the noise and the three officials slipped out of the room through the back door avoiding the crowds.  
          Daniel rose and made his way to the Potters patiently waiting his turn after all the other well-wishers who surrounded him. “Congratulations!” he told Mr. Potter sincerely giving him a firm handshake.  
          “I got lucky,” replied Mr. Potter. And then, looking at Daniel squarely in the eyes he added softly, “Thank _you_.”  
          “Glad I could help,” replied Daniel cheerfully. It was great when things worked out well for everyone involved. Successful cases were good for business and Daniel had a feeling the Potters would be _very_ generous this year when it came time to solicit donations for his annual fundraising ball…

********************

          The knock on the door was light but firm. Daniel Pilkington hastened to answer it. He opened the door and saw the tall figure of Harry Potter standing in the entrance. Besides him stood Holly Wycliff, her head tipped down, her blonde hair covering the sides of her face. “Hello, Mr. Potter,” Daniel greeted. “Holly.”  
          “Mr. Pilkington,” murmured Mr. Potter pleasantly. “I brought Holly with me,” he added. “I hope you don’t mind.”  
          “Of course not,” assured Daniel. He would have been surprised if Holly hadn’t come with him. Why else would Mr. Potter have requested they meet on a Saturday at the Hog’s Head? “How are you, Miss Wycliff?” Daniel asked politely.  
          “F-fine,” she mumbled hesitantly while not looking at him. Daniel looked questioningly at Mr. Potter seeking an explanation. Surely this behavior was unusual. She hadn’t done this with the Child Services Officials or Witch Bulstrode, and Leila never mentioned such exaggerated shyness while at school. It had to be something more. Mr. Potter’s face remained impassive; either he hadn’t noticed or was ignoring Daniel’s unspoken question.  
          “Please come in,” invited Daniel. He backed away from the door to let them enter. Mr. Potter put his arm protectively around Holly’s shoulder and the two stepped forward.  
          “Have a seat,” Daniel suggested indicating the three chairs in the middle of the room he had cleaned especially for their visit. Like everything else at the Hog’s Head, the rooms were positively filthy and if you wanted them any other way, you had to do it yourself.  
          “Mr. and Mrs. Wycliff have finally decided upon a second guardian should something happen to me,” began Mr. Potter when everyone had seated, “but I thought I should run it past you first.”  
          “Oh?” inquired Daniel politely. There had to be more to this visit than that. Guardianship papers did not require a solicitor’s input.  
          “Yes. They would like you to be that second guardian.”  
          “Me!” exclaimed Daniel in surprise. “I don’t even know the Wycliffs.”  
          “No,” agreed Mr. Potter calmly, “but their daughter knows you and that’s good enough for them. Should there ever be occasion for you to be her guardian, they are confident you will do the right things.” Including, no doubt, protect the location of the Wycliff residence, if necessary. “I don’t expect your responsibilities to be much more than to sign these papers,” Mr. Potter continued thoughtfully, “but you never know…” His voice trailed off. They both knew some unnamed person was probably out there still trying to get Holly. “Oh, you might be interested in this,” Mr. Potter added suddenly while reaching into a pocket. He pulled out a small slip of folded paper and handed it Daniel.  
          “What’s this?” questioned Daniel as he took the paper.  
          “The name of the person appointed by the court as Holly’s guardian…” stated Mr. Potter calmly.  
          “Someone came?” asked Daniel with interest. He hadn’t heard. Daniel unfolded the paper while he spoke. Holly had already told him she had spent the night before and day of the Inquiry with her parents.  
          “Yes,” came the reply. “As near as I can tell, he arrived less than a minute after I was charged. He seemed rather disappointed to learn Holly was unavailable…”  
          “I can imagine…” said Daniel thoughtfully as he studied the name on the paper. The two of them had clearly interrupted some very well laid plans. There was bound to be another attempt and, perhaps, some repercussions due to the failure... As Holly’s solicitor, Daniel might become a target. As her guardian he might become more of a target.  
          “Well, are you agreeable?” Mr. Potter asked in a lighter voice referring to the initial request to be an alternate guardian.  
          Daniel looked down at Holly. “Is this what you want?” he asked her.  
          Holly had looked up to watch the exchange of papers but now hastily put her head back down. “Yes, sir,” she replied in a low voice. “Very much.”  
          “Well, then how can I say “No?” Daniel answered cheerfully. Mr. Potter drew out some papers and handed them to Daniel to sign. He reviewed them swiftly before pulling out a quill and affixing his name at the allotted space.  
          “As I am not a party to this agreement, I’m serving as witness,” Mr. Potter informed him dryly. “There’s nothing in the rules that say we have to be all present at the same day or time for signatures.”  
          Daniel swiftly looked again at the papers. “No,” he agreed. “There isn’t. As long as you witness all signatories make their signature. Though that might be considered an oversight on their part,” Daniel mused as he handed the papers back to Mr. Potter.  
          “One which I intend to make use of,” agreed Mr. Potter with a hint of a smile as he tucked the papers safely in his pocket. “I must apologize for setting you up during our last meeting,” he said abruptly changing the subject.  
          “What?” questioned Daniel as he mentally reviewed their meeting looking for indication of a “set-up.”  
          “About the prophecy,” explained Mr. Potter. “I had no idea Holly would behave in quite that way…”  
          “It was nothing,” said Daniel dismissively. Actually, Daniel had barely finished the reciting prophecy, when Holly suddenly bolted and left the room! Daniel started after her fearing another display similar to the one he had seen in the Ministry, but scarcely had he stepped through the doorway when Holly’s friend Mark Owens stopped him. He had obviously been waiting outside the door for Holly. In the distance Daniel could see Holly and another friend, presumably Becky Smith, hurrying off.  
          “She’s fine!” Mark assured Daniel while blocking his way. “We’ll take care of it.”  
_“Take care of what?”_ wondered Daniel but he let the matter slide filing it away for future reference. How had all this strange behavior escaped Leila’s eagle eye?  
          “No,” corrected Mr. Potter. “It was rather rude. I had a long talk with Holly about it. Her behavior towards you has been rather inappropriate.”  
_“Did that include the looking down bit?”_ wondered Daniel silently.  
          “I’m s-sorry,” mumbled Holly without looking up.  
_“Apparently not,”_ thought Daniel answering his own question.  
         “Hmmm,” said Mr. Potter in a disapproving tone while he looked down at Holly. “Have you time for a story?” he asked appearing to again change the subject.  
          “Of course,” replied Daniel promptly suspecting it was more than just any story…  
          “And would all conversation between us remain confidential?” Mr. Potter asked cautiously.  
          In response, Daniel pulled out his wand. _“Muffeliato!”_ he commanded sharply. Holly shuttered visibly at the words though Daniel couldn't imagine why. “I am still Miss Wycliff’s solicitor,” he assured Mr. Potter. “And you are her legal guardian. All conversation between us is confidential.”  
          “Have you ever heard of a _Time Reverse Curse?_ ” began Mr. Potter in a conversational voice after Daniel had put away his wand. Holly gave a low moan, tucked her knees up in the chair and hugged them tightly. Mr. Potter pulled her chair closer to his and placed a comforting arm over the girl’s shoulders. “It’ll be O.K.” he assured her softly.  
          “A _Time Reverse Curse?”_ replied Daniel thoughtfully. “That’s a serious piece of dark magic. In theory, it reverses time like a time-turner but changes things from the way they were… It’s very, very dangerous and considered impossible to achieve.”  
          “Just because it’s dangerous,” said Mr. Potter quietly, “does not mean wizards do not attempt to cast it. In my story, a young wizard by the name of Tom Riddle decided to craft the spell…”  
_“Tom Riddle!”_ thought Daniel looking at Mr. Potter with shock. “Wasn’t that the original name of Lord Voldemort?” he asked aloud.  
          “Yes,” agreed Mr. Potter calmly. “And, as you can imagine, he was very good at casting spells…” Daniel listened spellbound as Mr. Potter described a tiny plaque placed in the trophy room and what happened when a certain student touched it. “The story would have ended there,” Mr. Potter continued, “except, for some reason, Riddle’s curse did not affect one person…”  
          “Holly?” guessed Daniel looking at the girl now curled into a tight ball and rocking back and forth in her chair. Mr. Potter’s arm was still resting protectively over her shoulders.  
          “Holly,” agreed Mr. Potter. And he briefly described how she woken up alone in her dorm, had made her way to the trophy room and, with Albus’ help, managed to break the curse.”  
          “That is some story,” said Daniel leaning back in his seat when Mr. Potter finished. It was pretty fantastic and hard to believe except… “I guess that would explain the thestrals,” Daniel commented thoughtfully.  
          Mr. Potter nodded. He looked down at Holly who was still curled up tightly and then back at Daniel. “Unfortunately,” Mr. Potter added softly, “that wasn’t the end. There was a another plaque…”  
          “What?” exclaimed Daniel in disbelief. That someone would attempt a _Time Reverse Curse_ was bad enough, but two!  
          “It was placed on a tree outside my old home…” continued Mr. Potter.  
          “Your home!” exclaimed Daniel. The audacity of it! “And you never found it?”  
          “No,” he replied dryly. “But while investigating schools for Holly, my cousin decided to visit his parents’ home. His son Vernon discovered and touched the plaque…” There was no need to mention Vernon had green eyes. Holly’s behavior made that all too clear. “The tree and plaque no longer existed in Riddle’s world,” Mr. Potter calmly informed Daniel. “Holly had to make her way back to the trophy room at Hogwarts to break the spell.”  
          Daniel stared at Mr. Potter and then looked down at Holly. “How?” he began but stopped at a loss for words.  
          “It took three days,” Mr. Potter added in an unemotional voice. “Three very scary days,” he elaborated softly understating what must have happened judging from Holly’s extreme distress. “Along the way she was picked up by Security and taken to a Wizard Security Station near Croydon. It was there she met a wizard who said he was Detective Daniel Pilkington, Wizard, Second Class…” Daniel looked up at Mr. Potter in disbelief. “She met you,” Mr. Potter confirmed looking back at Daniel with his green eyes.  
          “You said you wanted to help!” Holly abruptly said suddenly lifting her head. She had her eyes tightly closed. “And you meant it, too, but I was scared, so very scared and you were Security! Then you didn’t believe me when I told you my name and I didn’t know what to do... And when Wizard Flint came to take me away to Azkaban you just stood there and let him… You made him lunch for the trip—a roast beef sandwich, just like he ordered…”  
          Daniel stared at Holly speechless. Trelawney’s words rang through his head… Holly had green eyes. Her brother Vernon was a Muggle—definitely wandless and Mr. Potter had already described the chair that had imprisoned Albus. Could it be?  
          “What happened?” he asked scarcely daring to breathe. The story had taken on a very personal aspect. But Holly shuttered and tucked her head back behind her knees.  
          “Flint took her on a Security transport,” continued Mr. Potter dispassionately, “and on the way decided to eat his lunch…” Holly moaned softly. “Holly has a problem with meat scents,” added Mr. Potter. “After the plane wreck,” he explained, “they tend to remind her of—well, that’s why she went vegetarian. But Wizard Flint didn’t understand that…”  
          “I tried to explain,” put in Holly suddenly. “I told him the food was making me sick. But he didn’t believe me and he took that sandwich and held it right under my nose and I, I—” she broke off unable to finish.  
          “She threw up on him,” completed Mr. Potter. “Flint stopped the transport, pulled her out…”  
          “I was so afraid,” continued Holly. “He was so very angry; I was sure he would kill me… I, I—”  
          “You bit him, didn’t you?” completed Daniel recognizing the scenario from the Ministry. “And kicked him and stepped on his foot…”  
          “Stepped on his wand, actually,” corrected Mr. Potter, “breaking it. And Holly got away,” he finished. Holly tucked her head down behind her knees again. Her shoulders heaved up and down in silent tears.  
_“_ … _the one who prepares the lunch shall free the green-eyed girl who would redo the world…”_ murmured Daniel thoughtfully the meaning of the words now obviously clear. “But what kept him from seeing you?” asked Daniel suddenly as he remembered the terrified pose he had found Holly in.  
          “Holly used an invisible cloak,” Mr. Potter answered for her. “A gift from Dumbledore,” he added when Daniel looked up at Mr. Potter with surprise.  
          “Albus Dumbledore was alive?”  
          “No,” answered Mr. Potter solemnly. “He was long dead. But he knew something was wrong and left a package behind just in case someone appeared at the Dursley place…”  
          “There’s more!” said Holly suddenly; she abruptly lifted her head again, her eyes still tightly closed. “There was this bag—with my name on it waiting for me when I got off the train in London! You were the only person who knew my name!” she continued. “The _only_ one! You had to have left it for me! You just had to have! And it had food, and water, and—and if you hadn’t, I don’t know how I could have continued! You said you wanted to help me and you did! I’ve wanted to thank you, I really have!” Holly added. “But you didn’t even know me and wouldn’t understand if I tried and when we did meet, I found I couldn’t, couldn’t even lo—look!” she burst into open tears. Daniel looked from Holly to Mr. Potter for further explanation.  
          “She sees two of you!” he said bluntly. “The person in front of her and the other one, the one in a Security uniform—kind of superimposed over each other. Holly has been having a problem separating the past from the present.”  
          Daniel stood and hesitantly reached out to Holly. She shuttered at his touch and then unfolded wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” she sobbed.  
          Daniel patted Holly and then hugged her back. “It’s O.K.,” he told her reassuringly but Holly only sobbed more.  
          “I’m so sorry!” she whispered. “I owe you so much and I’ve treated you so—”  
          “Hey! I said it was O.K. and I meant it!” he reminded her. “You believe me don’t you?”  
          “I guess,” she admitted between sobs.  
          “What do you mean “I guess?” persisted Daniel puzzled. “You knew I meant it before, why not now?”  
          There was a long silence before she answered. “Um, nobody did Oc-Occlumency over there, nobody except the Headmaster and Lord Voldemort,” she said in a timid voice.  
          “You can’t sense me?” exclaimed Daniel with sudden understanding.  
          “No,” she whispered.  
          “Would you like to?” he asked abruptly realizing how distressing an Empath might find it being near a person without emotions. Holly gulped and nodded. “Why didn’t you say so?”  
          “That would involve explaining…” put in Mr. Potter quietly. “It is not a subject Holly likes to dwell on.”  
          That was obvious enough. Daniel closed his eyes and thought. He had been practicing Occlumency for so long it had become a part of him. How did one go about turning that off?  
          Suddenly he felt Holly give a small shutter in his arms. “Oh, it _is_ you!” she exclaimed with a note of joy. Obviously the effort to drop his block had been successful. "And you’re still curious!” she added eagerly. “You were filled with curiosity when we first met. Concern and pride too, but mostly curiosity. I was afraid you’d figure things out without me saying anything—especially after Cedric…”  
          “Cedric?” echoed Daniel softly. “Diggory?”  
          “Yes. He was in Security too, but he just followed orders. He couldn’t do much else. I knew he was thirsty when I shouldn’t and about the book. You never said a word but you were even more curious after that!” said Holly. “You didn’t like it when Wizard Flint took me away, but you didn’t stop him. I had no idea you’d ever do anything afterwards, but if you hadn’t... Oh, thank you!” and Holly renewed her hug with enthusiasm.  
          “Uh, glad I could help.” Daniel held her quietly while he tried to absorb all the new information. Then he came to a decision and took a deep breath. “Holly,” he told her, pulling himself away from the girl. “I want you to look at me.”  
          “Oh, no!” she exclaimed fearfully.  
          “Why not?” Daniel argued. “It’s just two of me—I don’t look _that_ bad do I?”  
          “Um, no,” she admitted.  
          “Well?” he persisted. “If word got out that my favorite client couldn’t stand to look at me it would be very bad for business.”  
          “Favorite?” questioned Holly softly.  
          “Favorite,” confirmed Daniel confidently. “Well,” conceded Daniel in the accusing silence that followed. “Favorite at the moment! All my clients are my favorites!” he added firmly. It was difficult talking to someone who could sense the slightest exaggeration. “But that doesn’t change the fact that if Rita Skeeter ever thought you wouldn’t look at me she would gleefully print it up!” That was true enough. Rita had rapidly printed up Witch Bulstrode’s account of Holly’s aversion to the entrance and stairs with her usual negative spin. No doubt both had to do with Holly’s problems of separating past from present. “So, will you look at me?” he asked including all the sincerity he could muster behind the request.  
          Slowly, Holly raised her head and turned her face upon Daniel. It was streaked with tears but he could clearly see those green eyes that looked so much like Mr. Potter’s. “Do you see two of me?” he asked gently.  
          “Yes,” she whispered.  
          “Good,” said Daniel with satisfaction. “Now, which one looks better?”  
          “What!” squeaked Holly in surprise.  
          “Which one of us looks better,” repeated Daniel. “Mr. Potter said I was in a uniform,” he continued. “I 've never been one to wear uniforms, but maybe I should... Do I look better that way?  Well?” he insisted demanding a response from Holly. “It’s not like I can look in a mirror…”  
          Holly gulped and looked, really looked at Daniel. Her eyes would shift just a bit and then look back again. “Um, your hair was shorter,” she began thoughtfully.  
          “Really?” questioned Daniel his hand immediately going up to touch his curly red-brown hair. “More of a regulation type haircut?" he asked looking at Holly for confirmation. She nodded faintly. "Does it look better that way?” Daniel persisted.  
          “I don’t know,” said Holly unaccustomed to such questions. “Maybe…”   
          “Oh, so how much should I trim? A centimeter, two?”  
          “Um,” Holly squinted as she stared at him and her eyes continued to shift back and forth. Suddenly Holly sat back. “I don’t know,” she told him with finality. “There’s only one of you!”  
          Daniel smiled. “That’s good,” he told her. “I rather fancy being one-of-a-kind.”  
          “Me too,” she agreed with a smile.


	41. Chapter 41

          Hilbert John Bartholomew Montague the Third sat at the desk and carefully unbent a paper clip. He was in the front office of Smeltings officially watching the phone, answering questions, distributing mail, doing whatever, while the secretary was out for lunch.    
          The secretary appreciated the break in her day. She considered Hilbert one of the finest, most trustworthy, thoughtful, helpful, responsible student of the school, especially as he was willing to give up his free time during lunch just to help her. Hilbert tossed the straightened clip into the trash, and pulled out a new clip. Hilbert didn’t especially like giving up the freedom of his luncheon break, but lunch was when the office was most often empty; Hilbert used the time to read student mail, peruse the files for interesting information, and pick up any school news or gossip.  
          Today was a slow day. No mail to speak of, and nothing of interest in the most recent staff memos. Hilbert straightened out the first curve of the clip and was working on the second when the telephone rang.  
          “I’d like to speak with Mr. Wycliff, please,” said an unfamiliar female voice on the other end.  
          “Mr. Wycliff is unavailable,” said Hilbert automatically. The office did not transfer personal phone calls to students. “Could I take a message?”  
          There was a rather long pause. Then, “Oh, but isn’t it luncheon time?”  
          “True, but Mr. Wycliff is occupied doing detention,” lied Hilbert smoothly. Technically, Hilbert could transfer personal calls during the luncheon hour and Wycliff was probably in the cafeteria with Perkins but Hilbert would never do anything for Wycliff.  
           “Of course. School,” replied the voice. “What about after class? What time could I call to reach him then?” As she spoke, Hilbert tried to identify the speaker. The voice was fairly pleasant with no discernable accent. It was not a child’s voice nor a gushing teenager but not an old lady’s voice either. The language she used indicated the speaker was no gutter tramp and was probably well educated.  
           “I really couldn’t say,” said Hilbert vaguely. “Wycliff is constantly in class after hours doing make-up and remedial work. I have no idea what time he finishes.” None of that was true, of course, Wycliff hadn’t had to do any make-up or remedial stuff since he hooked up with Perkins.  
          “Oh,” said the voice sounding rather disappointed.  
          “Of course, I would be happy to personally deliver any message you might have for him,” Hilbert offered. Or not, depending on the actual message…  
          “That’s so kind of you,” replied the voice, “but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble. Perhaps you could provide me with his room number so I could drop him a line….”  
          “I’m not permitted to give out that kind of information,” informed Hilbert, “but it isn’t necessary. Just address your letter to Vernon Wycliff in care of the school and we’ll be happy to drop it in the correct box.” After reading it, of course. There was something odd about the voice on the other end of the line. Hilbert definitely wanted to know more especially as it had to do with Wycliff. “Of course, it would be much faster if you left him a message…”  
          “Well,” the voice waffled. “What did you say your name was?” she suddenly asked.  
          “Uh, Hilbert, Hilbert John Bartholomew Montague the Third,” replied Hilbert a little uncertainly. You never knew what to expect when people started demanding your name…  
          “That’s an impressive sounding name,” the voice cooed. “I bet you know all the students at Smeltings.”  
          “Uh, yeah, I do.” Hilbert agreed.  
          “And all the professors?”  
          “Yeah.”  
          “And everything that happens at school?”  
          “Of course.”  
          “Well, perhaps you could help me. I’m a reporter doing a bit of research on boy’s academies, then and now. The “then” is easiest enough to find in old newspapers, but the now… I thought to look up young Vernon and ask him for help because his father is an old friend of mine but it doesn’t sound like the lad would have any free time. You, on the other hand sound like just the person I need… Would you be interested in sharing a spot of tea somewhere while we discussed the school sometime? Perhaps today, when you get off duty? My treat, of course.”  
          “Sure,” decided Hilbert promptly. He could ask her about the Wycliffs while they were at it… There’s a café in the village called _The Wild Iris_ ,” he added. “I could be there at 4:00.”  
          “That sounds perfect! I’ll be there.”  
          “Uh, how will I know you?” asked Hilbert a little uncertainly. He had never before agreed to meet with a stranger.  
          “I’ll be wearing a light green business suit with an orange corsage. Will that stand out enough?”  
          “Yes, it should,” agreed Hilbert. “Uh, what’s your name?”  
          “It’s Rita,” replied the voice. “Rita Skeeter…”

********************

          “Yoo-hoo! Oh, young man, do wait up!”  
          Vernon and Kenny were walking back to school after a leisurely afternoon in the village topped off by a double chocolate sundae. The two stopped and looked curiously at the speaker. It was a woman wearing red-rimmed glasses weaving her way through the pedestrians headed straight towards them. She wore a lime green suit and a short matching skirt that fit so tightly around her legs it seemed both awkward and difficult for her to walk let alone move quickly. But that didn’t stop her from trying. The lady also had on these impossibly high-heeled lime green shoes that clattered with each step on the sidewalk. One arm was on her head holding onto a floppy broad-brimmed lime green hat trimmed with a dark red ostrich plume. Dangling from her elbow was a shiny red handbag on a thin gold chain. Her free hand waved wildly in the air trying to attract their attention.  
          The two boys waited politely until she had caught up with them. She was an older lady with bright red lips and blue eyes. Wisps of yellow hair peeked out from beneath the floppy hat. “Thank you so much for stopping,” she gushed breathlessly moving up so close to Vernon that their noses almost touched. The overpowering scent of face powder and some sort of flowery perfume wafted over him. Uncomfortable by her nearness, Vernon automatically took a step backwards.  
          “I’m so sorry to disturb you,” the lady added moving ever closer heedless of Vernon’s efforts to back away. “But would your name happen to be Wycliff?”  
          Vernon stopped moving. “Uh, yeah,” he answered.  
          “Are you, by chance, related to … Dillon Wycliff?”  
          “Yeah, he’s my dad.”  
          “I knew it!” the lady smiled happily. “You’re the spitting image of Dillon! When I saw you walking down the street I said to myself, “That’s Dilly! It has to be!” But of course it couldn’t be—you’re so young! So I said to myself, “I bet he’s related!” And you are!” she exclaimed excitedly.  
          “You knew my dad?” asked Vernon with interest.  
          “Knew him! Why your father practically _lived_ in my house!” gushed the lady. “Oh, the hours we spent in front of the fire sipping hot cocoa, listening to Dilly (that’s what we used to call him) describe his latest antics at school…” The lady smiled warmly, her eyes seemed to mist up lost in remembrances. “And on especially cold winter nights, I would slip Dilly a couple of baked potatoes so he could keep his hands warm on the way home…” And then, as if noticing for the first time that blank expression on Vernon’s face the lady announced, “I’m Delilah, Delilah Smith!” and looked at Vernon expectantly.  
          “Uh…” said Vernon blankly. He’d never heard the name before.  
          “Well, surely your father’s mentioned my name?” demanded Ms. Smith. “Me and Uncle Claude? Well, he wasn’t really your uncle,” amended the lady in a confidential tone, “but Dilly was around so much whenever classes were out it was just as if he was family!” She placed an arm warmly on Vernon’s shoulder drawing him to her side totally engulfing him with that sweet perfumed scent. “Why don’t you come with me to my cottage,” she invited. “We can have some tea, talk about old times…”  
           “Uh,” Vernon hesitated. Sure it would be nice to learn more about dad’s youth, but what about Kenny? Vernon looked uncertainly from Mrs. Smith to Kenny. Mrs. Smith followed his glance. She fixed her blue eyes on Kenny. “Haven’t you some exam you need to study for?” she asked Kenny pointedly.  
          To Vernon’s surprise Kenny suddenly mumbled, “Uh, yeah,” and walked away without another word.  
          Without giving Kenny another glance, Mrs. Smith kept her arm firmly on Vernon’s shoulders and started walking with him in the opposite direction. “I do believe I have some photos of your father when he was your age,” she told him warmly, “He was so strong and handsome—just like you! Honestly, if I hadn’t already been married, I’d have gone after him myself!” As she talked, she headed Vernon towards one of the nearby cottages. “Some of the stories your father would tell about him and that knobbly stick,” she continued informatively. “Why, I remember this one time when he and his friends took their knobbly sticks and—oh, dear,” Mrs. Smith said reflectively, “I think I’d better wait with that story. I don’t suppose I should be telling it in public,” she told him confidentially. “Come along!” she urged. “I can’t wait to tell you!”  
          There was something _off_ the way Kenny just walked away without a word. While Vernon puzzled on his strange behavior, Mrs. Smith kept up a continuous chatter and continued moving Vernon forward.  
          “I’m surprised Dilly never mentioned us,” Mrs. Smith said as they walked up the sidewalk towards one of the small cottages. “Of course he’s probably been very busy since he left school. Raising a family, for one,” she added giving Vernon an extra squeeze as she spoke. “Moving from place to place, no doubt, as young couples often do,” she mused. “I lost track of Dilly after he left Smeltings,” she informed Vernon sorrowfully. They stopped in front of a white door with a small glass window at the top and an ornate door-knocker beneath. “So tell me, Vernon,” she said as she reached for the elaborate looking brass doorknob. “Where do you live now?”  
          It was an innocent enough question but all sorts of alarm bells began to go off in Vernon’s head. “Uh,” he responded uncertainly. “I don’t remember telling you my name…”  
         “But of course you did,” argued Mrs. Smith,“right after you said your father was Dillon Wycliff…”  
 _Dillon!_ Right! That’s what was wrong! “You knew my dad when he was going to Smeltings?” asked Vernon just to be certain.  
          “Yes, of course,” smiled the lady warmly. “And a wonderful lad he was too!”  
          Almost without thinking, Vernon ducked down and backed away breaking free of Mrs. Smith’s grip.  
          “Wait! What are you doing?” questioned Mrs. Smith in confusion as Vernon turned and started running down the sidewalk. “Stop!” she shouted but Vernon wasn’t listening. Dillon wasn’t Dillon in those days! If the lady knew him at all, she would have called him _Dudley!_ So who was she?  
          It wasn’t until he reached the campus that Vernon remembered about Kenny and the strange way he had walked off. Suddenly worried for Kenny’s safety, Vernon desperately cast his mind back—what was it the lady had said to him? _“Oh, yes,”_ he thought. _“She told him to study!”_ Vernon headed hopefully to the library. To his intense relief, he found Kenny amid a pile of papers with his nose in a book. “Hey,” Vernon said to Kenny.  
          Kenny looked up. “Hi,” he said. “Just thought I’d do a bit of studying. You don’t mind, do you?”  
          “No,” replied Vernon while pulling out a chair. “Of course not.”  
          “That lady,” Kenny added when Vernon had seated himself and pulled the chair next to Kenny. “Did she really know your dad?”  
          “No, I don’t think so,” replied Vernon. “I think she wanted to _meet_ my dad.”  
          “Oh,” said Kenny blankly. “That’s weird.”  
          “Yeah,” agreed Vernon. “That’s why I left.” He sat quietly and watched Kenny gather up his things.  
          “No need to study much more,” Kenny decided out loud. “After all, the exam’s not for another two weeks. Can’t imagine why I thought it was necessary in the first place.”  
          Vernon knew why, but should he say something? “Can I have a piece of paper?” Vernon asked suddenly.  
          “Sure,” replied Kenny and he promptly handed over a blank page.  
          Vernon borrowed Kenny’s pen and swiftly scribbled a note. “Dear Holly,” it began. “I think I just met Rita Skeeter…”  
          When he finished, Vernon got a stamp and envelope from Mr. Ballytwirk, the librarian. Then he swiftly addressed the envelope to Holly in care of the Smiths and handed it back to Mr. Ballytwirk who added it to the stack of letters he already had ready for morning mail pick-up. Rita Skeeter was part of that other world of Holly’s. Holly would know what to do…

********************

          A few days later Vernon sat in the bleachers waiting for Kenny’s track practice to end. It was a rather warm spring day with the sun shining brightly. But Vernon didn’t notice. He wasn’t watching Kenny either. Vernon just sat and stared out into space.  
          “Hello Vernon,” came a quiet voice from behind. Vernon jumped at the sound even though he recognized the voice. He twisted around and up to look at the tall figure wearing a rumpled plain gray overcoat over an even plainer gray suit who stood over him.  
          “Cousin Harry!” exclaimed Vernon with more relief than he could have imagined. He hadn’t asked Holly to contact him, but was glad she had.  
          “How are you?” Cousin Harry asked politely.  
          “Fine,” lied Vernon. The truth was he felt cold and shaky inside. He was tired, too, but not sleepy. He couldn’t sleep knowing that, at any time, Rita might come visiting… What would happen now that she knew where he went to school?  
          Cousin Harry moved up to sit down next to Vernon. “I understand you think you might have met Rita Skeeter,” he said without preamble.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Vernon without looking at Cousin Harry. He looked down at the field and stared fixedly at the runners.  
          “I’d like to hear about it.”  
          So Vernon recounted his experiences with Mrs. Smith. When he had finished, Cousin Harry gave a sigh and leaned back a bit. “Well?” asked Vernon anxiously. “Was it her?”  
          “Sounds like her,” replied Cousin Harry cautiously. “I’m just surprised she wasn’t more … persuasive…”  
          “I, uh, think it was because I had this,” confessed Vernon. He held out the dark blue card Holly had given him for Christmas. Vernon had been clutching it off and on anxiously ever since the encounter. “H-Holly gave it to me,” he told Cousin Harry and then explained about the card.  
          “Hmmm,” said Cousin Harry thoughtfully as he studied the card. “You could be right. Nice piece of work,” he added as he handed the card back.  
          “Thanks,” said Vernon. Reassured, he returned the card to his wallet. “Uh, what now?” he asked worriedly.  
          “Now?’ questioned Cousin Harry. “Now, you go on; return to school; do whatever you usually do.”  
          “But, what about Rita?”  
          “Rita is in London,” informed Cousin Harry calmly.  
          “Oh.” And Vernon suddenly became aware of the sun shining down on them. He didn’t say it but a wave of relief washed over him at the knowledge Rita was no longer nearby. Her presence had scared him more than he realized. “You, ah, think she’ll come back?” he asked worriedly.  
          “I don’t know,” admitted Cousin Harry thoughtfully. “She may. But I’ve a couple of friends keeping an eye on her. If she heads this way, we’ll try to make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”  
          “Oh. Thanks.” Reassured, Vernon could feel his body relax a bit. “Sir?” he asked suddenly.  
          “Yes?”  
          “Wh-what would have happened had I gone into that cottage?”  
          Cousin Harry reached up and removed his eyeglasses. Then he pulled out what appeared to be a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean his glasses. “I expect you would have had some tea,” he said finally. “And Rita would have a very good story to write for her newspaper. I doubt you or your parents would have ever seen it, though,” he added calmly. “It’s not a newspaper your dad subscribes to.” He put his glasses back on.  
          “T-that’s it?” asked Vernon looking over at Cousin Harry in surprise.  
          “That’s it,” he replied looking back at Vernon with his green eyes. “Rita’s annoying,” Cousin Harry added, “but she’s not evil. She just wants a story.”  
          “Oh.” It seemed a bit of a let down to Vernon to think that he hadn’t escaped some dire danger.  
          “Mind you, I’m pretty glad you managed to elude Rita,” Cousin Harry continued informatively. “Her news articles are bad enough without her having some actual information to write about.”  
          “Oh.” That made Vernon feel better.  
          “I’m working on an idea to keep Rita from bothering you or your family,” Cousin Harry added. “Then you won’t have to worry about her at all.”  
          “That would be nice,” agreed Vernon.  
          “It looks like the practice is over,” commented Cousin Harry quietly. Vernon looked at the track and indeed the runners seemed to be dispersing. “I should be going,” Cousin Harry continued as he stood.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Vernon. He could see Kenny heading his way. “Sir?” Vernon added suddenly. “Thank you.” He was glad Cousin Harry had come.  
          “Thank _you!_ ” came the response. “Have a nice evening.”  
          “Yes, sir.” Vernon rose and went down to meet Kenny.  
          “Who was that guy you were talking to?” Kenny asked when Vernon drew near.  
          Vernon turned around and looked at where he had sat. No one was there, anywhere. It was tempting to say, “What guy?” but Vernon wouldn’t do that to Kenny. “That was my Cousin Harry,” Vernon replied. “He heard about my encounter with that lady, and wanted to see how I was.”  
          “How are you?” Kenny asked.  
          “Just fine,” replied Vernon. And this time he wasn’t lying.  
          “Good!” replied Kenny cheerfully. “Because they’re showing a movie in the village I’ve been wanting to see and I kind of didn’t want to see it alone. You up for it?”  
          “Sure!” replied Vernon promptly and the two took off towards the dorms to change and get ready.

********************

          The movie was indeed good. Both Vernon and Kenny enjoyed it immensely. Then they stopped off for a soda before returning to their dorm. It was rather late by then and the outside door to the dorm was locked. That was no problem. Vernon drew out his key, unlocked the door and the two entered the building. The entry was empty of people and most of the lights had been turned off, but there was still enough light to easily see one’s way. Vernon headed immediately towards the stairs.  
          The dorm had a lift; Vernon had used it the first day of his return to Smeltings. Though well lit, the confining area suddenly made Vernon feel exceedingly tense and nervous. He took the stairs from then on telling Kenny it was an “exercise thing.”  
          Kenny opened the door to the stairs and the two entered the stairwell. Their footsteps clattered loudly on the stairs but Vernon didn’t notice. They were too busy making plans for the next day. They were about halfway up the second flight when the lights suddenly went out! All of them! And Vernon found himself in total, complete blackness! His heart raced wildly and adrenaline flooded his body as panic took over…  
          “Power outage,” came Kenny’s calm voice breaking the silence.  
          The terror instantly melted out of Vernon. He wasn’t alone tied up in that room! Vernon’s hand gripped the handrail tightly. It was still dark but he wasn’t tied and he wasn’t alone! “Yeah,” agreed Vernon hoping he sounded cool and nonchalant.  
          “Got a torch?” asked Kenny. “Mine’s in the room.”  
          “Uh, mine too,” agreed Vernon regretfully but he suddenly remembered his ring! “I might be able to manage something, though” he added hesitantly but as he finished speaking, they both heard the distinctive sound of a door opening above them. Vernon looked up towards the sound. He couldn’t see a thing, but could hear something that sounded large and heavy scrape the floor above them. “Who’s there?” called out Vernon.  
          “Oops!” called out a voice and Vernon heard something loud and metallic clatter down the stairs amid the mocking sound of laughter!  
          “Look out!” shouted Vernon, not that he could see anything, and his hand gripped the rail even tighter pulling his body to the side with it.  
          Something heavy, cold and hard passed by scraping Vernon’s side as it fell down the stairs. It was over in moments, and then there was absolute silence: silence, darkness and stench! The whole stairwell suddenly smelled of rotting meat! Any fear Vernon might have had of returning to _the room_ evaporated with that smell. That other place never smelled like this! Vernon was certain that a filled garbage can had been rolled down on top of them!  
          “This isn’t funny, Montague!” Vernon shouted out angrily into the darkness as he straightened up from the rail. “You could have hurt us!” Vernon brushed off some of the smelly muck that lingered on his body. “Seriously hurt! Right Kenny? Kenny?” Vernon turned his head in the direction where Kenny had been. There was no answer. “Kenny?” Vernon called again reaching out with his hand to feel for him. Vernon’s hand only felt empty air. Still reaching out, Vernon knelt lower and lower until he felt some cold slimy goo that littered the stairs and then the hard surface of the actual stairs. No Kenny!  
          Truly panicked, Vernon used his thumb and turned on his ring light heedless of who else might see. Where was Kenny? Immediately a soft blue light shone from his hand. It was terribly small but made all the difference. Vernon waved his hand all about using the ring’s tiny light to find Kenny.  
          Finally, Vernon saw a still form lying halfway down the first flight of stairs amid piles of smelly stuff. “Kenny!” Vernon exclaimed hurrying down the stairs to him. Vernon brushed away the muck and lifted Kenny’s head. He moaned softly and his eyes opened briefly before rolling up and closing entirely.  
          “I’ll get you out of here!” Vernon assured Kenny. Vernon got beneath Kenny, lifted his head and shoulders and carefully dragged Kenny the rest of the way down the stairs. Laying Kenny gently on the floor, Vernon next shoved the garbage can aside and cleared a way to the door for Kenny. Then Vernon opened the door—or, rather, tried to! It was stuck somehow, not locked, but it wouldn’t open ether!  
           “Open up!” Vernon shouted while banging on the door. Nothing happened. Using his shoulder, Vernon heaved his body up against the door—Once, twice, thr—Suddenly the door opened and Vernon burst through the entry. Unable to keep his balance, Vernon stumbled onto the floor and a heavy weight landed on top of him!  
          “Why the rush, Wycliff?” came a familiar voice in his ear and a pair of knees dug into Vernon’s back and shoulder blades.  
          “Kenny, he’s hurt!” said Vernon breathlessly.  
          A torch suddenly flicked on and shined onto Vernon’s face, into his eyes. “He can wait,” replied Trevor calmly.  
          “You stink!” added Pittman with a nasty laugh from overhead. It was his knees digging into Vernon’s back, keeping Vernon on the floor.  
          “So you do!” agreed Trevor coldly. Abruptly the torch was removed from Vernon’s eyes. Vernon could tell Trevor had stood and was walking off. Vernon tried to turn his head to watch but Pittman pushed a hand onto his head holding it still.  
          “I’m serious!” insisted Vernon desperately. “Kenny’s hurt and I don’t know how bad!”  
          “Pity,” said Trevors insincerely. He had returned and, from the sound of it, stood directly over Vernon. Suddenly something icy cold and wet fell on Vernon’s head. Vernon’s whole body jerked with the shock of it. Trevors must have emptied a bucket of something on top of him! Vernon sputtered and spit out the liquid that had run into his mouth—salty! Cold _salty_ water. That was worse! Vernon had read somewhere that salt water could get colder than just ice water. He didn’t doubt it was true!  
           “What’s going on here?” came the imperious voice of Montague. A torch light again shone on Vernon’s face, into his eyes.  
 _“As if you didn’t know!”_ thought Vernon.  
          “We were just doing some cleaning!” spoke up Trevors.  
          “Yeah!” laughed Pittman. “He’s real stinky!”  
          “Listen!” exclaimed Vernon renewing his struggles. “You’ve got to help Kenny! He’s hurt!” Struggling didn’t help. Pittman bore down harder on Vernon’s back keeping him immobilized on the floor in a puddle of icy water.  
          “Really?” came Montague’s calm voice right next to Vernon’s ear. “And you stink! You never used to. Must be that _trash_ you’ve been keeping for company!”  
          “Some more water?” asked Trevors dispassionately.  
          “Might help,” came Montague’s thoughtful voice. It was higher up and further away this time, Montague had obviously stood. Immediately another bucket of water splashed onto Vernon’s head. Icy water covered Vernon’s face, rushing into his eyes and mouth causing Vernon to cough reflexively. The salt stung. Vernon squeezed his eyes shut trying to rid himself of the sting.  
          “Come on!” pleaded Vernon when he could talk again. “You’ve got to let me go! Let me help Kenny!”  
          “You’ve got to come _clean!_ ” demanded Montague ignoring Vernon’s words.  
          “Huh?”  
          “I know you’ve been hiding stuff and I want to know what it is!” he continued explaining. “All of it! Start with why you’ve got all those lights in your room this year!” Montague calmly suggested as he reached out and grabbed Vernon’s wrist. Vernon clenched his fist tightly sensing what Montague intended. “Then you can move on to how your crazy sister gets her letters to you without going through the post.” Montague placed his foot on the wrist holding it in place. Then his fingers relentlessly uncurled Vernon’s fist grabbing Vernon’s ring as he spoke. “After that, I’d like to know all about that blonde broad and why you ran off from her in such a hurry.” Montague tugged and pulled at the ring on Vernon’s finger eventually getting it off bruising and bloodying Vernon’s knuckle in the process. Montague removed the foot from Vernon’s wrist and brought the now bloody ring under Vernon’s nose within eyesight and shined the torch on it while he talked. “By then I’m sure we’ll have some other questions for you to answer…”  
           “Kenny!” Vernon repeated faintly while staring helplessly at the ring now in Montague’s possession.  
          “I’d start talking if I were you,” said Trevor in a calm voice from Vernon’s other side. “The sooner Montague’s satisfied, the sooner you can start cleaning up the “mess” in the stairwell…”  
          “Yeah!” laughed Pittman. He grabbed one of Vernon’s arms and started pulling it painfully back.  
          “O.K.! I’ll talk!” Vernon suddenly shouted. The pressure from his arm stopped. “I’ll say whatever you want to hear, just get Kenny to the Infirmary first!” Kenny was more important than any family secrets.   
          “Talk now, Infirmary later!” said Montague coldly. The light was again shone in Vernon’s face blinding him.  
          “No!” protested Vernon desperately. “It would take too long!”  
          “Talk faster,” he ordered uncompromising voice. “And no lies! I’ll know it if you lie! This is not a negotiation, Wycliff,” Montague added sternly. “We have all night. Have you?”  
          Vernon gulped. No, he didn’t have all night. Rather, Kenny didn’t. Worse, Vernon was a lousy liar; he couldn’t think up any tales that Montague might believe and he doubted Montague would believe him if he actually told the truth!

          “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

          The loud commanding voice seemed to boom throughout the entryway. The light on Vernon’s face abruptly vanished and Vernon’s arm was released just as quickly. A new light shone on the group from the doors.  
          “We were, ah, just doing some cleaning,” came Montague’s voice from above Vernon.  
          “I came to investigate why this building had no lights on and I find three of our finest students standing over a fourth like a group of _common ruffians!”_ It was the voice of the Librarian Ballytwirk.  
          “We were cleaning, sir,” came Montague’s smooth voice, “when Wycliff here, slipped and fell… We were just helping him up.” Vernon immediately felt hands reach down and grab hum under the armpits helping him to stand.  
          “In the dark?” questioned Mr. Ballytwirk suspiciously.  
          “Mr. Perkins!” Vernon urgently said interrupting Mr. Ballytwirk’s line of questioning. “He’s in the stairwell,” Vernon continued while shaking off Pittman and Trevor’s grip. “He’s injured and needs to get to the Infirmary!” There was time enough for questions and answers later.  
          “By all means, see that he gets there,” said Mr. Ballytwirk and he shined his light on the stair door. “Why would you be cleaning in the dark, Mr. Montague?” questioned Mr. Ballytwirk as Vernon started off towards the stairs. “Has anyone checked the breakers yet?”  
          Vernon ignored the responses as he pulled open the door. To his relief, Vernon found Kenny lying within the light of Ballytwirk’s torch. “Kenny!” he said as he lifted Kenny’s head and shoulders.  
          Kenny moaned and opened his eyes. This time they stayed open. “Wh-what happened?” he asked.  
          “You fell,” replied Vernon with undisguised relief. Kenny was awake. That was a big plus. “Can you stand?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer Vernon draped one of Kenny’s arms over his shoulder and started pulling Kenny upright. “We’ve got to get you to the Infirmary!” Vernon told Kenny. The two of them moved out of the stairwell. Vernon staggered under Kenny’s weight but Kenny managed to keep his legs moving which helped considerably.  
          The two walked slowly towards the door but when they reached Pittman and Montague, (Trevors having gone to “check” the breakers,) Vernon stopped. “My ring!” Vernon hissed.  
          “What ring?” questioned Montague innocently in an equally low voice.  
          “The one with _V. Wycliff_ inscribed on the inside!” reminded Vernon persistently. Vernon had thought it stupid to make an inscription of any sort but that inscription had served him well this year. He could make an issue of it and the inscription would verify Vernon’s ownership. “Now!” Vernon insisted holding out his hand. “Before I tell Ballytwirk you were trying to “clean” with ice and _salt_ water!” No one cleaned with salt water! Examining the stuff still on the floor could easily prove the accusation and make a lie of Montague’s earlier statements.  
          Montague gave an exaggerated sigh. “Take it!” he said with disgust as he dropped the ring into Vernon’s waiting hand. Vernon’s bloody fingers closed tightly around it. “It stinks anyway!” Montague added disdainfully. Without another word Vernon urged Kenny out the front door and to the Infirmary.

********************

          The physician at the Infirmary pronounced Kenny in good health other than an assortment of bumps and bruises and prescribed a bath and decent night sleep on an infirmary cot just to be sure. He suggested the same for Vernon after bandaging up Vernon’s finger and noting the bloody scrape down Vernon’s side. Vernon slipped the ring on his other hand and readily accepted the suggestion of a night in the Infirmary fearing Montague might try something else in their room in Kenny’s absence.  
          As soon as the physician had left Kenny sat up in his bed. “So do we have to take the stairs any more?” he asked calmly.  
          “Uh, no, I guess not,” replied Vernon uncertainly. At the moment, he wasn’t sure which was worse, closed in spaces or falling garbage cans in the dark…  
          “Want to tell me about that blue light?”  
          Vernon froze. “You saw that?” he asked suddenly fearful.  
          “Small light on your finger that lit up the place? Kind of hard to miss,” Kenny replied.  
          Vernon gulped. “That’s, uh, the ring I got with cousin Albus at Chessington,” he said trying to sound nonchalant. “I told you about it earlier.”  
          “Kind of left out the light part,” replied Kenny dryly.  
          “Yeah, uh, well, Albus’ brother James fixed that for me,” replied Vernon. “I guess he’s uh, kind of like Cousin Harry…” Vernon’s voice trailed off.  
          “Oh. Care to tell me why?”  
          “Why? Oh, I, uh, like lights,” Vernon replied lamely.  
          Kenny didn’t respond immediately. He just regarded Vernon quietly with his brown eyes. Vernon swallowed uncomfortably and looked away unable to meet his gaze. They both knew it was more than that. “You don’t have to explain, if you don’t want to,” Kenny added as if long silences from Vernon were normal. “I just thought now would be a good time; near as I can tell, we’re the only ones in the Infirmary.” That was true. Satisfied their injuries were minor, the physician had gone back to his own room and instructed Vernon to “call” if something else happened.   
          Vernon considered the situation. He knew Kenny wouldn’t push it if he said “no” but did he really want to keep quiet? “You wouldn’t believe me,” Vernon finally mumbled.  
          “Maybe,” Kenny agreed solemnly. “But you never know. I’ve heard a lot of weird stuff in India.” A long silence followed while Vernon pondered Kenny’s words. Then Kenny spoke again. “I can promise that I won’t laugh and I would never, _ever_ let Montague find out!” That was said in dead earnest and Vernon knew Kenny would keep his word.  
          “It’s a rather long story,” Vernon finally said hesitantly.  
          “All the better,” replied Kenny calmly while regarding Vernon steadily with his brown eyes. “I really don’t feel up to sleeping just yet,” he confessed, “and as this place has no tube, radio, or reading material to speak of, a long story would help pass the time…”  
          Vernon took a deep breath. “Well,” he began tentatively, “It all began when dad decided to take Holly out of that special school she has been going to…”


	42. Chapter 42

          A sharp “rap” sounded on the office door. Daniel Pilkington hastened to answer it. “Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,” he said with a welcoming smile while looking at the two people standing in front of him. “This is such an honor!” Daniel continued warmly giving a brief bow of respect. “I’m Wizard Pilkington,” he added introducing himself. “Won’t you come in?” The stern features of Wizard Malfoy softened at the warmth and sincerity of Daniel’s greeting. The couple stepped inside and Daniel closed the door behind them.  
          Daniel didn’t normally bow before his visitors but he wanted something from the Malfoys, something they might not be willing to give. All accounts described Lucius Malfoy as proud and arrogant. Narcissa was equally proud but perhaps not so arrogant. The two came from very old wizard families and would expect bowing as part of their due. Groveling cost nothing. If a bit of groveling helped Daniel get what he wanted today then he had no problems doing it.    
          Daniel studied the two as they walked in. Both were tall and slender and made a handsome couple. Lucius Malfoy was taller of the two. He had a pale, pointed face, pale gray eyes, and long pointed nose. His thinning blond hair was brushed neatly back away from his face. It hung long and loose but was carefully trimmed so it just touched his shoulders. He wore a dark green silk suit and a matching waistcoat with gold buttons down the front.  
          Narcissa Malfoy’s blonde hair was swept up into a loose bun that was held in place by a simple emerald green pillbox hat with gray-green spider web netting. She wore a stylish elegant form fitting emerald green dress that looked to be made of silk trimmed in gold. Her long white fingers held a small elaborately worked beaded bag showing a twisting dark gold snake against a field of emerald green.    
          “Won’t you sit down?” Daniel invited indicating the plush but sturdy chairs in his office. He had rearranged his office furniture and space to look like an old fashioned parlor. There were three antique chairs and a round tea table of cherry wood placed between. His desk had been transfigured into a small antique looking end table placed off to one side. Daniel tried to put the Malfoys at their ease as much as possible.  
          Narcissa removed her hat and placed it on the polished cherry wood hat stand near the door. Then she and Lucius each selected a chair, sat down and looked at him warily.  
          “I realize it’s a bit early in the day,” began Daniel sitting in the third chair, “but might I interest you in a bit of wine? It’s elf-made and a very good year.” Also very expensive. But that went without saying. Elf-made wine was notoriously hard to come by these days. However, Daniel had helped an elf in a very tricky legal matter and the elf had later graciously donated a case of the wine in appreciation.  
          Without waiting for a response, Daniel reached over to the tea table, lifted a shiny dark green wine bottle from a tray and uncorked it. He then picked up one of the three antique blue and bronze goblets from off the tray. His wife Terika had inherited the goblets from her grandmother. Daniel filled a goblet with the bloodred wine and handed it to Narcissa. She silently took the goblet holding it in her long white fingers while staring imperiously at Daniel. Daniel presented a second goblet to Lucius and poured a third for himself. Then Daniel settled in his own chair and took a sip, a very small sip, of the wine. He closed his eyes in appreciation. The taste was exquisite. No one could mistake the distinctive bouquet and smooth flavour of the wine. If one wasn’t careful, Elf wine was very relaxing and tended to loosen tongues. Daniel waited until Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had each taken a sip and had a chance to savor the wine before continuing.  
          “Thank you so much for coming,” began Daniel smoothly. “I feel honored by your presence.”  
          “Your invitation was … intriguing,” said Lucius Malfoy taking another sip.  
          Embossed gold lettering on heavy parchment—not the usual mail. It was designed to both impress and pique their interest.  
          “And we had an opening in our schedule,” added Narcissa coolly taking a second sip as well.  
          That wouldn’t have been too hard. Though Harry Potter had spoken up for the family and kept them out of Azkaban prison, the rest of the wizard community could neither forgive nor forget their support of and/or involvement during the reign of Lord Voldemort. The Malfoys had become somewhat social outcasts and kept pretty much to themselves.  
          “Then I am truly fortunate,” said Daniel warmly. “I asked you here because I thought you might be able to help with a bit of a problem one of my clients has,” he began carefully.  
          “Oh?” said Lucius, immediately suspicious. They weren’t the “helpful” kind of people. Narcissa took a third sip of the wine while she listened.  
          “My client,” continued Daniel, “who wishes to remain anonymous, has been doing a bit of research and ran across a discrepancy.” Daniel paused to take a pretend sip of wine and then continued. “It involves a cousin of your, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said. “A Sirius Black?”  
          Both Malfoys stiffened at the mention of the name. “Sirius Black is no relative of mine,” denied Narcissa icily.  
          “Yes, yes,” said Daniel disarmingly. “I understand he was disowned and rightly so! I can’t begin to imagine how I would have felt if one of my children would have been sorted into Hufflepuff or,” Daniel gave an involuntary looking shutter, “Gryffindor!” Probably love them as usual, but Daniel didn't say that. Watching carefully he saw a barely imperceptible relaxation of Narcissa's body. She took another sip of wine. Encouraged, Daniel continued. “But the fact of the matter is, Sirius Black is or was, a _pureblood_ wizard. If he was wrongfully accused and convicted, well it reflects badly on all of us!”  
          “Us” implied pureblood wizards. Daniel's words were carefully selected to give the impression that he and the Malfoys shared a similar attitude towards other wizards. It wasn't widely advertised but Daniel knew the Malfoy’s still maintained a belief in the superiority of pureblood wizards, few as there were these days. Daniel doubted that they would have consented to see him at all had he not had an impeccable pureblood lineage, Ravenclaw though it might be. His words had their intended effect.  
          The Malfoys seemed to relax even more and looked at him with new interest. "What do you want to know?" asked Lucius cautiously. He took another sip of wine while he waited for an answer.  
          "It's about this wizard named Peter Pettigrew," began Daniel.  
          “So?” came the icy response.  
          "As you know,” Daniel continued, “Sirius Black was convicted for Peter Pettigrew’s murder. But my client found an account that claims Peter Pettigrew was alive some ten years later. And if that is true, then he surely couldn't have died at Sirius Black's hand, at least not when it was claimed."  
          “Why come to us?” asked Narcissa coolly. She took another sip while she studied Daniel with her blue-gray eyes.  
          “Well,” Daniel began carefully. “That one reference implied that Peter Pettigrew was an associate of …” Daniel lowered his voice, “the _Dark Lord!_ ” putting into his voice the sound of awe mingled with fear and wonder that Daniel had often heard voiced by his grandparents when referring to Lord Voldemort. Surely that was how the Malfoys thought of him. “Something to do with a hand getting cut off…”  
          “So?” prompted an icy voice.  
          “Well,” continued Daniel. This was the delicate part; Daniel had to word things so the Malfoys wouldn’t take offense. “As your sister Bellatrix had the fortune or misfortune to, ah, associate with … the _Dark Lord_ …” Daniel lowered his voice again adding a touch of reverence to his voice. Bellatrix was more than a mere “associate” of Lord Voldemort—by actions and words she was clearly a devoted follower and partner in crime! But now was not the time to mention that. Lord Voldemort was no longer in vogue and Narcissa’s relationship to Bellatrix could be a touchy topic.  
         “It occurred to me that you might have had, ah, occasion, to, ah, _meet_ some of her associates …” Daniel said in a hesitant voice. “Maybe even the Dark Lord himse—” Daniel broke off letting his voice end in a touch of wistful hope as if knowing Lord Voldemort wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. “Perhaps been obliged to _entertain?_ Not willingly, of course,” Daniel added hastily making it clear he didn’t think the Malfoys would wish to be a party of Bellatrix’s activities, “but, well, she was your sister and you would have had to have been polite…” Daniel worded his explanation carefully to afford the Malfoys all opportunity to retain the appearance of reluctant involvement with Lord Voldemort. Most accounts maintained that Malfoy's association with Lord Voldemort was more than that of unwilling entertainers, but after Harry Potter stood up for the family, all official investigations stopped and nothing had been confirmed.  
          “So I thought perhaps you might have seen this Peter Pettigrew and if you had,” Daniel continued quickly not giving the Malfoys a chance to respond, “then perhaps you could make a formal statement to that effect and I could use it to clear Sirius Black’s name… More wine?” Daniel offered rising to refresh their glasses before they had a chance to speak. The longer the two remained, the more chance Daniel had of gaining their cooperation.   
          The two looked at each other wordlessly and sipped their wine thoughtfully. This was a good sign. The Malfoys were known to storm off righteously in a huff at the first hint of their association with Lord Voldemort.  
          “Why would we do this?” asked Lucius Malfoy finally. His attitude remained imperious and his cold blue-gray eyes regarded Daniel suspiciously.  
          “Why, I thought I already explained that,” sputtered Daniel in a flustered sounding voice, “because Sirius Black was a pure blood wizard and, no matter how misguided he may have been, he was still a relative.” Family often meant a lot to wizards of the old blood.  
          “Also,” Daniel hesitated. “You want the truth?” he began again. They silently nodded. “I’m a solicitor,” he reminded them. “I’ve read transcripts of the trial. It was a travesty of justice from start to finish!” Daniel continued righteously. “Did you realize that the evidence presented for Black’s case was based solely on _Muggle_ reports and that several members who voted for this conviction were … _Mudbloods?”_ Daniel gave what he hoped was a convincing looking shutter. “The conviction is surely wrong, and it is an unsightly stain upon the reputation of us all.”  
          Narcissa took another sip of wine, a long sip, and regarded Daniel thoughtfully. “Did _he_ put you up to this?” she asked suddenly.  
          “He?” questioned Daniel furrowing his brow.  
          “ _Harry Potter!_ ” she practically spit out the name.  
          “Harry Potter?” said Daniel questioningly. “Oh, you think I might be working for Harry Potter?” The two regarded him accusingly; that was clearly what they thought. “Oh, no!” Daniel denied heartily. “Mr. Potter has no idea I am talking to you,” he told the Malfoys honestly. “In fact,” Daniel leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I would appreciate it if you don’t mention our little meeting to him.”  
          “Oh?” Daniel had their total attention now. Clearly the reports of the animosity between the two families were not exaggerated. “You see,” continued Daniel explaining,“Mr. Potter knows nothing about what I am doing and were he to find out, I’m afraid he might attempt to use his considerable, ah, influence to try to stop me.” Secrecy was important but not for that reason.  
          “Why?” asked Narcissa taking a long “sip” nearly emptying her goblet in the process.  
          “Well,” continued Daniel in a confidential whisper while he reached over with the wine bottle and refilled Narcissa’s glass and adding more wine to Lucius’ goblet as well. “I understand Sirius Black was Mr. Potter’s _godfather!_ ” Daniel paused to take another pretend sip of wine and then continued. “Can you imagine what it must be like for a great hero like Harry Potter to believe he has a _convict_ for a godfather? No wonder he never talks about his past. I imagine Potter’d rather people forget about it altogether.”  
          “But you’re trying to clear Black’s name.” observed Lucius. He took another sip of wine while openly studying Daniel.  
          “True,” agreed Daniel, “but I’m not sure Mr. Potter would see it that way,” replied Daniel. “I’m only trying to clear Black of Pettigrew’s death and not the mass murders,” Daniel added by way of explanation. The Muggle eyewitnesses had had their memories wiped. There was no way to challenge or reverse their testimony. “Those who died in the mass murder, well, they were only Muggles anyway,” added Daniel in a dismissive sounding voice knowing the Malfoys would agree with that kind of attitude. “Potter is well known for desiring privacy,” Daniel continued. “He may see this as an invasion of that privacy, an excuse to stir up memories and deliberately put the whole Black story and _himself_ in the public’s eyes.” Daniel took a pretend sip of wine and waited. The story he had spun sounded logical enough. Had he said enough to convince them?  
          The Malfoys looked at each other wordlessly for several minutes. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, Narcissa suddenly turned and stared at Daniel, her blue-gray eyes looking into his. “Is this all in confidence?” she asked.  
          “The strictest!” affirmed Daniel warmly. “Nothing you say will ever leave this office without your consent.” Daniel’s reputation as a solicitor was beyond reproach and he intended to keep it that way.  
          Reassured, Narcissa leaned forward. “Then I remember Pettigrew!” she said spitting out the name.  
          “This the person?” asked Daniel as he quickly opened the folder resting on the tea table and pulled out a confirmed photo of Peter Pettigrew. He handed it to Narcissa for visual identification.  
          “Yes,” said Narcissa scarcely giving the photo a glance before passing it on to Lucius. “Repulsive little man who always kept stroking that silver hand of his like it made him somebody _special!_ Believe me!” she added with obvious disgust in her voice, “Sirius would have done us all a favor if he _had_ killed the little cockroach!”  
          “Really?” said Daniel with genuine interest. After all, the Malfoys and Pettigrew were on the same side at the time, weren’t they? “But he was a pureblood!” Daniel protested.  
          “That may be,” sniffed Narcissa after taking a sip of wine, “but he certainly didn’t act like one! Sneaking around where he didn’t belong! Always simpering, bowing and groveling before the Dark Lord, happily obeying his every command no matter how demeaning. Pettigrew was no better than a common … _house elf!_ ” Narcissa paused to take another drink of wine, a long one, and then added, “His presence was an insult to us all!”  
          “I had no idea,” said Daniel sympathetically. Narcissa took another generous gulp of wine. “What happened to him?” Daniel asked curiously while retrieving the photo from Lucius and returning it to the folder.  
          The two looked hesitantly at each other and then at Daniel. “Well,” began Narcissa in a whisper leaning forward so she could be more easily heard. “We found him _dead_ in our cellar!” Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she spoke. Perhaps it was due to all that wine she had been drinking or just the thrill of revealing a long held secret.  
          “No!” exclaimed Daniel properly aghast.  
          “Yes!” affirmed Narcissa taking another long drink. “We had to haul the body out and burn it! The stench was ghastly!” Narcissa took another gulp of wine and shuttered,  clearly remembering. “It took years before the cellar was fit for use again!”  
          “So what happened?” asked Daniel as he refilled her goblet again.  
          “No idea,” replied Narcissa promptly, “but I can tell you the Dark Lord was not pleased!” she added in a hushed tone. “He said something about how Wormtail’s “Loyalty” must have wavered…”  
          “Wormtail?” questioned Daniel.  
          “Yes, it was some sort of nickname, though Pettigrew was more vermin than worm as far as I was concerned.”  
          “What happened to the hand?” asked Daniel abruptly.  
          Narcissa leaned back, took another long drink nearly emptying the goblet and considered the question. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “It wasn’t with the body when we burned it was it?” she turned to Lucius for confirmation.  
          “No,” he said looking faintly disturbed. “Nor was it there when we found Pettigrew. I don’t know what happened to it,” he confessed.  
          “Interesting,” murmured Daniel thoughtfully. According to Harry Potter’s account, the hand was Lord Voldemort’s creation out of “nothing.” That made it a possible piece of serious dark magic. Had the hand had returned to “nothing?” upon Pettigrew’s death? Or did something else happen to it? The idea was something worth investigating, but at a later time.  
          “But I forget myself,” Daniel said in a jovial upbeat voice. “All I need is a simple statement from you and your wife indicating that you saw Peter Pettigrew alive after Sirius Black’s, ah, incarceration. Something like this,” Daniel rapidly pulled out two pieces of previously prepared legal parchment and handed one to Narcissa and the other to Lucius to review. They were fairly generic “I, ________, saw the wizard known as Peter Pettigrew (identified as such in the affixed photo) _alive_ after 1996.” There was space for the appropriate signature and date beneath. “Your word is good enough,” Daniel assured them as he fished out a legal quill from his pocket—Slytherin green in color with gold ribbing. “No need to go into the specifics of where or when.” He knew neither would admit to any details of an incriminating nature nor were they necessary for his purposes. “No one needs to know any of that.” Daniel placed the quill on the small table in front of them for use.  
          “More wine?” he offered as if the legal document were a mere inconvenience. Time was essential now. He had to get them to sign before they had second thoughts and changed their minds.  
          Narcissa studied the parchment carefully. Then she looked up at Daniel. “Potter really knows nothing about this?” she questioned.  
          “My word of honour,” promised Daniel. Then he added in a worried voice, “You won’t tell will you?”  
          Narcissa finished her wine in a single gulp. “Never!” she replied firmly with a glint in her eye. Then she set her goblet down on the tea table, grabbed the quill, rapidly filled in her name on one of the parchments and signed the document. “Good luck!” she told Daniel and she handed him the parchment.  
          “Thank you,” said Daniel humbly. He watched silently as Lucius filled out his name and signed the other affidavit. “You have no idea how much this means to my client,” Daniel added when Lucius set down the quill.  
          Daniel returned the signed parchments to the folder and removed the folder from the tea table placing it in a small drawer of the end table for safekeeping. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of helping me finish this wine,” Daniel suggested as he picked up the bottle of wine. “As a way of celebration?” The two nodded their heads and settled back into their chairs. Daniel divided the remaining contents of the bottle between the three goblets. He set the empty bottle down and settled back into his chair. He drank deeply from his goblet this time truly appreciating the wine's exquisite taste.  
          This was indeed an occasion for celebration. Of all the wizards believed to have been captured by the Death Eaters, only _two_ were known to have returned alive.  
          Each had willingly provided a statement confirming he/she had seen Pettigrew alive during their time of captivity. But Professor Lovegood was once a member of Dumbledore’s Army and an acknowledged friend of Harry Potter and Wizard Olivander spoke affectionately of Harry Potter when he signed the documents. It could be easily argued that both would willingly lie for Harry if asked. But the Malfoys—they had no love for Harry Potter and would never lie on his behalf. Their statements along with the other two could not be denied. Daniel was certain he had enough to accomplish his goals.

********************

          “Are you ready Holly?” called Becky.  
          “I suppose so,” answered Holly unenthusiastically. She gave her long blonde hair some extra strokes with her brush before putting her monarch butterfly hair clip in to hold it back.  
          “Well hurry up!” said Becky impatiently. “We’re not leaving without you!”  
          Holly sighed. She put down the brush and reluctantly joined the others in the common room. Everyone was there. Like Holly they had all worn their Hufflepuff colours, a sign of solidarity. Prefects Gwen and Ben both smiled upon Holly’s arrival. “Now that we’re all here,” Gwen began, “let’s go.” As one, the group started towards the dorm exit. Sasha leaped up onto Holly and balanced on her shoulders as they walked. She purred loudly in Holly’s ear.  
          “It’ll be O.K.,” whispered Becky squeezing Holly’s hand tightly.  
          “Yeah,” agreed Holly. But neither of them really believed that.  
          The Hufflepuffs walked down the corridor and then down the stairs. None of them really wanted to do this but they knew they had to. Holly walked unblocked. She drew strength from the determination of the group and made it hers.  
          Other wizards met them at the bottom of the stairs, Hufflepuff parents. The parents solemnly joined the group, squeezed their children’s hands encouragingly and then mingled with the rest as a whole giving affectionate embraces to those children whose parents couldn’t be there this day. Mrs. Owens, Mark’s mother, squished into the group and put her arms on both Becky and Holly warmly. Unity was the Hufflepuff strength and they would need it today.  
          Slowly the Hufflepuffs made their way outside walking steadily to the quidditch pitch and the stadium. Like many students, Holly hadn’t been to the stadium since the collapse, unable to face what had happened that day. Despite the bright sunshine, memories of the last time they had been to the stadium loomed heavily everyone’s mind. Holly could still see the mud and the injured, hear the screams, feel the pain. They were regular memories, not the flashback kind but that didn’t make them seem any less real or painful.  
          The stadium looked much as it always did. The replacement part had been built to match the original but now the completed stadium supposedly had numerous protective and anti-collapse spells worked into it. The Ravenclaws were already seated in their usual area as were the Gryffindors. Only the Slytherins had yet to arrive. The Headmistress, the Hogwarts faculty, the Prime Minister, various members of the Ministry of Magic and the Hogwarts Governors including Cousin Harry were already seated in the Slytherin section. Their presence was a statement of support. It indicated that they were confident nothing else would happen at the stadium and if it did they would share in the consequences.  
          Holly and her friends climbed up to the top of the stairs and sat down. Sasha leaped onto Holly lap, curled up and started purring loudly. Holly wound her fingers in Sasha’s fur and kept her head down refusing to look. She had returned to blocking, too. The surrounding emotions along with her own memories of that day were already too much to bear.  
          “Look!” whispered Becky.  
          Almost without thinking, Holly raised her head and looked. The Slytherins were entering the stadium. Their green and gold clothes glinted and shined brightly in the sunlight. With firm confident steps, the quidditch team led the way. Bringing up the rear was Professor Slughorn. The Slytherins had been offered the opportunity to sit in a new location of their choosing but had declined. They refused to let the experience rule their lives. With pale faces and head held high they walked single file, to their seats in the stadium and began to sit down.  
          Someone started clapping. Then more people clapped. Soon the whole student body was cheering the Slytherins on. Holly felt ashamed of her own fears and began to clap too. They had suffered much worse. If they could do it so could she.  
          When the applause died down, Madam Hooch flew out over the pitch on her broom. Unlike last time, Holly could see her clearly. And Holly easily recognized the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw quidditch players who next walked onto the pitch. Madam Hooch spoke with the two teams briefly and then the players mounted their brooms. Suddenly a loud blast sounded and they were off! A swirl of Hufflepuff yellow and black mixed with the blue and bronze of the Ravenclaws as the two teams began playing in earnest.  
          Soon Holly was caught up in the excitement of the game. It was hard fought and for the most part the Hufflepuffs kept the lead. In the end, Ravenclaw seeker Daren Azi managed to catch the snitch and the extra point boost enabled the Ravenclaws to win the game. But everyone had won; they had all managed to face and overcome their fears.

********************

          “Professor Lovegood!” said Holly in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Holly and Becky had just left the secret passageway and had rounded the corner when they found Professor Lovegood standing quietly in a shadowy alcove. Her wand was extended and the brown and black robes she wore seemed to blend into the wall.  
          “This section of the seventh floor has been closed to students until further notice,” informed the Professor calmly. Her bronze key shaped earrings dangled gently as she spoke.  
          “Why?” asked Holly bluntly.  
          “It is no longer safe for students,” replied the professor vaguely.  
          “Oh.” The Room of Requirement was in the section the professor said was “closed.” “Perhaps just this once,” Holly pleaded softly, “as you’re here to watch…”  
          Holly had been looking forward to practicing the organ before bed. The other Hufflepuff students’ fears about returning to the stadium had caused their nightmares to return in full force during the week waking Holly at all hours of the night. Perhaps their nightmares would end after that exciting game and an event free day at the stadium but Holly hadn’t wanted to take chances.  
          “No,” replied the professor gently. Holly’s lips quivered in disappointment. “Your need to use the Room would not be met tonight anyway,” Professor Lovegood added softly.  
          “Not be met?” questioned Holly. “Why?”  
          The professor did not answer.  
          “You mean it’s occupied?” broke in Becky suddenly. Holly’s eyes widened with comprehension.  
          The professor did not respond but instead said bluntly, “Do not try to enter the Room of Requirement and keep off the seventh floor as much as possible.”  
          “Who?” Holly questioned persistently.  
          “That is yet to be determined,” she replied calmly, “but it is no longer safe on this floor. Good night,” she told them with a nod of her head.  
          “Good night,” the two replied and started back towards the dorms. All sorts of questions ran through Holly’s mind as they walked: Who was in the room? Why? Did Albus know? Was the occupant the person who had framed Albus or someone else? Holly longed to ask Professor Lovegood more questions but didn’t, sensing she would not answer.  
          The next morning Headmistress McGonagall informed the students that the seventh floor was "off limits" except on the way to and from class and announced that she had reason to believe there was an intruder hiding on the Hogwarts grounds, possibly the same person who had caused the stadium to collapse. She asked everyone watch for anything odd or unusual and report it to the nearest professor. She also advised the students to travel in groups for their own safety.

 ********************

          “Good afternoon, Miss Wycliff,” said Professor Lovegood. It was Thursday and time for Holly’s weekly dueling practice. The Professor wore blue and gold robes that sparkled as she moved and had a yellow/gold chameleon on her head holding her blonde hair in place. The chameleon calmly blinked one eye as it solemnly regarded Holly and her friends. “You need not wait,” the Professor told Mark and Becky serenely. Her matching gold colored corkscrews dangled gently from her ears as she spoke. Holly’s two friends nodded and pocketed the wands they had been holding. They knew the Professor would insure Holly did not walk the halls alone. The two waved “Good-bye” to Holly and left.  
          “We have a new Auror student joining us today,” said Professor Lovegood conversationally as she and Holly walked through the classroom to a mirror on one side of the room. “She passed all the preliminary exams and is very good.” Professor Lovegood continued as they walked. The two stopped when they reached the mirror. The Professor pointed her wand at the mirror causing it to swing open revealing the practice room beyond. Holly entered the practice room. It was long and rectangular with a somber gray floor that felt soft and spongy beneath her feet. There were two orange squares drawn on the floor at either end of the room. The lighter, gray-coloured walls were bare of any decorations. Four chairs leaned against a wall near the center.  
          The Auror students stood clustered in a group with their backs toward Holly. Holly recognized the three in front who all turned at the sound of Holly’s arrival. The new student, Holly guessed, would be behind them. She wondered who it would be…  
          Ravindra smiled warmly at Holly.  
          “Hi,” said Matthew stepping forward to greet Holly.  
          Holly looked beyond him into the inky black eyes of Paige Crowley!

********************

          “Holly? Holly? Are you all right?” Holly blinked and looked down swiftly. She didn’t know how Ravindra had come to be by her side but there were two Paige Crowleys standing in front of her—eerily superimposed over each other. One wore a trim black uniform, tailored jacket and form fitting skirt that flared out gently at the hem falling modestly below her knees, and the other had on a practical kaki-green dueling suit—a loose fitting tunic trimmed in gold on top with puffy genii-style pants beneath tucked into knee-high boots. Ravindra’s gentle touch and warm emotional presence reassured Holly that she was not in Tom Riddle’s world but the terror she had felt moments earlier when she had looked into those inky black eyes still coursed through her body.  
          Holly gulped. “I, ah,” she began in a shaky voice, “I don’t think I can do this,” she said remembering suddenly where she was and why.  
          “Do what?” questioned Ravindra. Holly could sense relief in her response. How long had she stood staring in Paige’s eyes? “Duel? Of course you can,” Ravindra assured Holly.  
          “Care to concede?” suggested Paige airily. “After all, you’re only a _third_ year!”  
          Holly refused to answer, refused to look up.  
          “What is it?” questioned Ravindra knowing Holly wouldn’t refuse without good reason. “You can sense her?” Holly had refused to fight Matthew on those grounds once.  
          “Ha!” came Paige’s confident voice.  
          Holly felt her face warm up. “No,” Holly admitted. “I, ah, saw her last summer,” she whispered not wanting to explain things in front of Paige.  
          “That’s unlikely,” said Paige flatly. She obviously had very good hearing.  
          “You did?” questioned Ravindra with interest while ignoring Paige. Holly had never mentioned Paige to the Auror students in her earlier account. “Where?”  
          “In, in Diagon Alley!” confessed Holly in a whisper, “with Richards.”  
          “You have a wild imagination,” commented Paige icily. “I was in Scotland all summer, not that it is any of your business, and I wouldn’t be caught dead with Richards after the way he dumped me for that _veela_ floozy in June.”  
          “But—you dumped him!” protested Holly looking up in spite of herself. “I saw you!” Paige’s waist long black hair was braided and hung down her right side with blood red ribbons holding it in place—but there were more ribbons, kaki green in color that tied back the hair too and seemed to merge with the red ones! There was too much hair! Holly hastily looked back down.  
          “Now I _know_ it runs in the family!” retorted Paige coldly. “Tell me, Miss Wycliff, do you see _thestrals_ too?”  
          Holly felt her face get hotter still; her lips trembled and she didn’t trust herself to speak.  
          “Perhaps you should confine your dueling to wands, not words,” came the serene voice of Professor Lovegood in the silence that followed.  
          “I-I can’t!” repeated Holly stubbornly.  
          “You see _two_ of her?” questioned Ravindra softly finally grasping what Holly had been trying to say recognizing the significance of her bowed head.  
          Holly gulped and nodded.  
          “But Paige has been around all year!” she whispered. “You’ve seen her before without any problems haven’t you?”  
          “Yes, I guess,” agreed Holly uncertainly. Logically Holly knew she must have seen Paige around but couldn't remember exactly where or when...  
          “So, why now?”  
          “I don’t know,” muttered Holly. “But it’s happening!”  
          “That’s perfect!” Ravindra responded eagerly. “If you can’t get rid of the flashbacks, at least you can learn to deal with them! What better opportunity than here and now? You can do this, Holly. I know you can!” Ravindra moved Holly to one of the orange boxes, dueling starting locations. Holly sensed, rather than saw Paige move over to the other box.  
          “Get your wand out,” reminded Ravindra.  
          Holly shakily drew the wand out from her belt.  
          “That’s new,” commented Paige coolly. “You need a special wand to duel? Or did you manage to loose your other one?”  
          A wave of embarrassment washed over Holly. She hadn’t meant to use Lily’s wand but Paige had rattled her so it was the wand Holly had automatically reached for.  
          “Are you ready?” questioned Professor Lovegood stopping all further comments. Hearing no response, she added, “Then you may begin.”  
          Ravindra stepped away from Holly. “Wait!” called out Holly grabbing Ravindra with her free hand in sudden desperation. Holly pulled Ravindra in close.  
          “Yes?” she asked.  
          “Don’t stop,” whispered Holly urgently.  
          “Huh?”  
          “Your emotions!” Holly blurted. “I don’t think I could bear to be alone…” Holly’s voice died out uncertainly not knowing how to explain. She wasn’t really alone in the practice room, but with everyone practicing Occlumency, it could feel that way… Ravindra’s cheerful emotions were a constant assurance Holly hadn’t returned to that other world.  
          “Don’t worry,” Ravindra assured Holly and gave her a quick hug before stepping to the wall with the other students. Her warmth and support remained strong and clear for Holly even without her looking.  
          Holly reluctantly turned her body towards Paige. She waited for the expected spell. There was no way she could duel Paige without looking at her and no way Holly would look into her face.  
           "No bow?" questioned Paige imperiously after the two had stood in their squares for a while.  
           Holly flushed at the reminder of standard dueling rules and bent at the waist trusting that Paige did the same. Still keeping her head down, Holly waited again for the expected spell.  
          “Well?” came Paige’s cool voice.  
          “Well what?” mumbled Holly.  
          “I believe it is customary to _look_ at each other when one duels…” Paige said pointedly. Holly mutely shook her head.  
          “Not all people need to see with their eyes to duel,” came the serene voice of Professor Lovegood. Holly was forever glad for her words. Holly needed to see to even begin to attempt to duel Auror students but obviously Paige didn’t know that. Holly raised her wand resolutely into a “ready” position.  
          “Oh, very well!” said Paige with an exaggerated sigh. _“Expelliarmus!”_  
          Holly’s wand went flying and she felt herself blasted across the room slamming into the cushiony wall.  
          “This is ridiculous!” said Paige disparagingly. “And a waste of time.”  
          Holly felt her face flush with embarrassment.  
          “I think not,” said Professor Lovegood mildly. “This is also Miss Wycliff’s dueling time and she obviously needs more practice.”  
          “You’re going to have to look at her!” whispered Ravindra as she handed Holly her wand. “You can do it! I know you can!” she encouraged. Ravindra helped Holly back up and guided her back to the square. Holly raised her wand and ventured a look higher than Paige’s feet. Paige’s outfit was a weird combination of kaki pants in brushed black boots superimposed on slender pale legs wearing polished black boots. Holly gulped and closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable blast. It didn’t come. Holly opened one eye curiously. Yes, both Paiges were still there eerily combined together. Holly closed her eyes again.  
          “You’re supposed to be dueling,” commented Paige acidly. “It might help if you opened your eyes and actually tried casting a spell.”  
          Holly flushed again realizing Paige would not cast her spell until Holly tried casting one of her own. She held her wand out uncertainly not knowing where to aim… _“Expelliarmus!”_ Holly shouted but the shot went wild.  
 _“Expelliarmus!”_ Again, Holly flew across the room and her wand clattered to the floor next to her. “You really are useless with a wand!” commented Paige caustically. “However do you manage to pass your classes?”  
          Thoroughly embarrassed and angered by her words, Holly grabbed her wand and scrambled to her feet. _“Expelliarmus_!” she shouted as soon as she reached the square. This time Holly aimed squarely at the hated black uniform with its blood red trim! She watched in amazement as Paige’s wand abruptly flew out of her hand and a green/black form tumbled backwards; a faint sensation of surprise escaped from Paige’s emotional control as she landed.  
          “Brava!” shouted Sean applauding appreciatively while Holly stared in disbelief at the seated green form.  
          “Good one!” said Matthew approvingly.  
          “It would seem you were a bit overconfident,” commented Professor Lovegood serenely.  
          “Perhaps,” said Paige coolly as she rose gracefully to her feet. She held out her hand and her wand flew silently to her fingers. “Or perhaps mollycoddling clearly had no effect on improving Miss Wycliff’s performance so another strategy had to be used. Without warning Paige fixed her black eyes on Holly and Holly returned the glance seeing with relief only one set of eyes upon her.  
          “Well reasoned,” said Professor Lovegood approvingly. “Mr. Kirkland?” Matthew jumped up and obligingly went to the dueling square. Holly straightened her stance, looked Matthew straight in the eyes and the two faced off.

 ********************

          Holly was acutely aware of Paige's black eyes constantly on her when she dueled the other students, but at least she made no more disparaging comments. Finally Holly's dueling turn ended. She sat down and rested while the other students dueled each other. Paige was equal in ability when she worked with or fought the other students. In addition, Paige managed to look graceful and elegant while she cast her spells and dodged spells of her opponents. Finally the practice session ended and everyone sat to rest a bit before leaving.  
          “So tell me what’s with Richards?” asked Ravindra while taking a sip of water.  
          “Richards?” said Paige coolly.  
          “Yes, he missed the last prefect meeting and I haven’t seen him in class lately.”  
          “I wouldn’t know,” Paige replied airily. “As I said before, I’ve had nothing to do with Richards since June. And I certainly wasn’t with him in Diagon Alley,” Paige added turning her piercing black eyes on Holly accusingly.  
          “Knockturn,” corrected Holly automatically.  
          There was a moment of silence while Paige absorbed this information. “Definitely not Knockturn Alley either,” she retorted. “Where do you get this stuff? No one with any _honest_ business goes to Knockturn Alley anyway. Speaking of which, what were _you_ doing there?”  
          Holly flushed and ducked her head down pretending interest in the ice in her drink.  
          “A trust betrayed is a good reason to ignore someone, but not for an Auror student,” commented Professor Lovegood mildly.  
          Paige rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “Richards doesn’t talk to anyone, not even his brother. He comes in late at night when most everyone is asleep and sneaks out early before breakfast. I have no idea where he goes in the daytime because, unlike him, I’m actually attending class. He’s probably sneaking out to Hogsmeade to be with a girl or hanging out on the seventh floor mooning about me like he did in the fall.”  
 _“Alone?”_ questioned Professor Lovegood.  
          “Of course alone,” replied Paige impatiently. “Who would be _dumb_ enough to go with him? Richards is still Prefect and thinks the rules don’t apply to him.”  
          “Perhaps it would be a good Auror exercise to find out where Richards goes during the day,” commented Professor Lovegood serenely. “I am sure the four of you can develop a plan that will not conflict with class obligations… You can discuss it while on the way to dinner,” she suggested.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” the students agreed rising to leave realizing her words were also a dismissal.  
          “If you would remain behind please, Miss Wycliff,” added Professor Lovegood calmly, “we have some things to discuss.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” said Holly meekly.  
          The two waited until the room had cleared and then Professor Lovegood stood. She offered a hand to Holly helping her up as well.  
          “I apologize for inviting Miss Crowley to the practice session,” she said solemnly regarding Holly with her silvery eyes. “I had no idea she would cause you to experience a flashback.  
          “That’s O.K.,” replied Holly. “I didn’t realize it would happen either,” she admitted, “but it’s all over now so it doesn’t really matter.”  
          “That’s good. What do you suppose triggered it?” asked the Professor curiously as they walked to her desk. “You have surely seen Miss Crowley around campus.” She arranged a pile of ungraded papers lying on the desk into a neat stack and then scooped them into her arms.  
          “Um, not really,” replied Holly thoughtfully. “Not like I have previous years when she was with Richards. But I think it was the eyes that did it!”  
          “The eyes?”  
          “Yes, when Paige looked at me; it was just like during the summer! I was sure she had seen me even though I was under the invisible cloak. That was the way Paige looked at me today—at me and through me.” Holly shivered remembering.  
          “Interesting,” said Professor Lovegood softly. She reached up with a free hand and placed several strands of hair within reach of the chameleon on her head.  
          “Professor?” asked Holly suddenly.  
          “Yes?”  
          “I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t think Auror students should lie—at least not to each other.”  
          Professor Lovegood stopped what she was doing and regarded Holly with her silvery eyes. “You believe Miss Crowley lied?” The chameleon grabbed the strands and took a leisurely step higher up on the Professor’s head.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly. “I wouldn’t know if Paige was with Richards in Diagon Alley,” she continued. “That was a flashback thing, but she was definitely with him in Knockturn Alley”  
          “Was she?”  
          “Yes.”  
          “And you know this through her emotions?” questioned Professor Lovegood softly. Her corkscrew earrings swayed back and forth gently as she studied Holly.  
          “No, ma’am,” replied Holly earnestly. “I can’t read Paige, not that way. I _saw_ her, saw them!”  
          “Miss Crowley and Mr. Richards in Knockturn Alley?”  
          “Yes,” Holly confirmed, “right before school started. Cousin Harry was with me. He saw them too!”  
          “Did he?”  
          “Yes. And Professor,” Holly added firmly, “ _Paige_ was the one who dumped Richards!”  
          “Interesting,” murmured the Professor thoughtfully as she walked to the class door. Holly followed. The Professor opened the door to the class and stepped outside. “I think it best you not mention this again,” she told Holly as the two walked into the hall.  
          “Yes, ma’am.”


	43. Chapter 43

          “Holly?”  
          “Yes?” Holly Wycliff was in the common room finishing up her homework when Marcy had come up.  
          “Fitzpatrick is outside and wants to see you.”  
          “Did he say what it was about?” asked Holly. It was rather late to be seeing people…  
          “No, but he doesn’t look all that good and said it was important.”  
          “Then I’d guess I’d better see him.” Holly got up and headed towards the exit. Becky was already in bed so Marcy came with her.  
          “Are you O.K.?” asked Holly worriedly when she saw Conner. He stood anxiously outside in the corridor wearing pajamas, his sandy hair was askew, and his forehead had been bandaged tightly. It was not the usual “visiting” outfit.  
          “I’m fine,” he said dismissively. “I’ve got to talk to you,” Conner continued with a note of urgency. “Alone!” he added looking pointedly at Marcy who had lingered at the entrance.  
          Marcy took in his disheveled attire and frowned “It’s late,” she told him, “and you’re not related.  
          “We’re just talking,” Conner assured Marcy impatiently, “I swear! We’re not going anywhere and I won’t leave Holly till she gets back inside. O.K.?”  
          Holly looked from Conner to Marcy. He was dead serious but whatever it was clear he wouldn’t speak in front of Marcy. “I’ll be fine,” she assured Marcy.  
          Marcy nodded reluctantly. “Don’t be long,” she told them and stepped back inside.  
          “Remember what happened to me during the exam?” Conner asked bluntly as soon as the portrait swung shut.  
          “What?” asked Holly in surprise. They hadn’t had any exams recently.  
          “The one where it was you, me and the professors,” he explained impatiently.  
          “Uh, yeah.”  
          “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it,” Conner continued quickly, “but I’ve got to! I think it’s happened again!”  
          “What? When?”  
          “Just now!”  
          “Really? What happened?”  
          “I woke up in the infirmary,” Conner began. “They said I fell and bumped my head while going down the stairs to the dungeons. I don’t remember falling,” continued Conner in a rush. “I don’t remember going to the dungeons. The last thing I remember is going up to the seventh floor after breakfast to get my manga book!”  
          “Seventh floor?” echoed Holly. “Why would it be there?”  
          “Beats me,” replied Conner. “I could have accidentally dropped it on the way to or from Divination. I don’t remember doing so, but I overheard Prefect Richards complain to Anthony about the comic mess he found scattered on the seventh floor and as I’m the only one here with manga I figured it had to be mine.”  
          “Breakfast wasn’t so long ago,” commented Holly while staring at Conner. His worry was so intense.  
          “Breakfast last _Friday!_ ” corrected Conner.  
          “Friday? But that was—”  
          “Three days ago!” completed Conner. “Yeah, I know! Madam Pomfrey says memory loss can happen with a bump on the head but I don’t think that’s it. It feels more like the way I did in the exam room with you and the professors all looking at me. Look-it,” continued Conner, “that other time when I couldn’t remember doing things, it was only for a couple hours and I was in the same chair I was sitting in before I couldn’t remember things. All the professors were there and they were saying it was “O.K.,” and “not to worry” so I didn’t but they weren’t there this time! I’ve lost three days of my life and I don’t know why! So I think it happened to me again!”  
          “Um,” began Holly thoughtfully. Conner hadn’t been to class last Friday. But it had been a beautiful spring day and a Friday—no one wanted to be there! Mark had envied Conner’s guts to skip class! What if he hadn’t been absent by choice? How did one tell an _Imperious Curse_ had been cast after the fact? Holly had no idea. “Did you, ah, see anyone else nearby?” she asked. There had to have been someone else near for what Conner suggested to have happened…  
          “No,” admitted Conner. “The corridors were totally empty—I didn’t even see my book! The last thing I remember was seeing some dumb rug with dancers on the wall…”  
          “With tutus like ballerinas?” questioned Holly softly _._  
          “Yeah, could be,” agreed Conner.  
          That had to be the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy Trying to Train Trolls… It was right across from the Room of Requirement! And the Room was occupied! If Conner was right about an _Imperius Curse_ yet hadn’t seen anyone then the person who cast the spell must have been invisible!  
          “I think you need to come with me,” Holly said looking warily around and drawing her wand. An invisible person could be anywhere! She didn’t sense anyone but it suddenly occurred to Holly that someone good enough to hide out at Hogwarts was probably good at Occlumency too. No wonder Professor Lovegood suggested Holly stay alert at all times while in Hogwarts. She turned and started walking swiftly down the corridor.  
          “Where are we going?” asked Conner as he hurried to keep up.  
          To see Professor Lovegood,” replied Holly briefly. “Get your wand out,” she added.  
          “Why?” he asked while drawing out his wand.  
          “Because the halls may not be as empty as they seem,” Holly replied cryptically and she shivered.

*********************

          The knock on her door was persistent and loud. Luna Lovegood quickly put on her robe and hastened to open the door. She knew the students would not bother her at this hour without good reason.  
          She did not expect to see Conner Fitzpatrick and Holly Wycliff standing in front of her, wands extended, both clearly out of breath. Conner should still be in the infirmary. His head was still bandaged from that fall he took. Holly—well, she usually traveled with her Hufflepuff friends and occasionally her cousins, not Conner and not at this hour.  
          “I’m sorry to disturb you,” began Holly breathlessly, “but Conner here,” she paused to look at him. “Well, Conner thinks what happened to him in during that exam happened again!”  
          “Why do you think that?” asked Luna while keeping her voice calm. A claim like that was most disturbing.  
          “Because I can’t remember anything,” he said bluntly.  
          “Since last Friday!” added Holly.  
          “You fell and bumped your head,” reminded Luna. She kept up on all medical reports at Hogwarts. “Surely Madam Pomfrey explained to you that a loss of memory is common in such after such events.”  
          “Yeah,” replied Conner but his manner clearly indicated he was not convinced.  
          Luna looked at Holly whose hand looked white from clutching her wand so tightly. “Why do you think this memory loss is not a simple head injury?” she asked. Clearly Holly thought there was something to his conclusions or she wouldn’t have brought Conner here.  
          Holly turned her green eyes on Luna. “Because the last thing he remembers before he woke up in the infirmary is the ballet tapestry on the _seventh_ floor!”  
          The seventh floor! That changed things considerably. Unable to get the intruder out, they had attempted the next best thing—to keep the intruder in! Wards had been placed on the seventh floor to dissuade the intruder from leaving. Neville had worried that it might not work so as an extra precaution they had also placed wards to keep the students away! How had Conner managed to bypass them? Clearly those wards needed to be reexamined. Luna backed away from the door. “Come in,” she invited softly. The two stepped inside and Luna closed the door securely behind them.  
          “Have a seat,” she suggested pulling up two chairs and conjuring up a third for herself. The two put their wands away and sat down. Luna drew her chair up close to Conner and held her wand directly in front of his face. “Look at the wand,” she ordered and waved it slowly back and forth. She watched his blue-gray eyes follow it easily. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss but then she didn’t think there would be; Madam Pomfrey had already checked him out in the infirmary and would have noticed and treated anything out of the ordinary.  
          “Why were you on the seventh floor?” she asked as she waved her wand.  
          “To get my manga,” he replied.  
          “Richards told him it was there,” put in Holly, “but it wasn’t.”  
          “Prefect Richards?” asked Luna softly. The two students nodded their heads. Tom Richards had attended class on Friday, the first time in over a week and without a word to explain his earlier absences. Further, though followed diligently, the Auror students had reported he had done nothing suspicious throughout the weekend. Perhaps they had been following the wrong person…  
          “Did you see anyone on the seventh floor?”  
          “No,” replied Conner, “no one at all.”  
          “Did you hear anything?”  
          “No.”  
          “What were you doing on the stairs when you fell?” Luna asked abruptly.  
          “I don’t know,” he replied unhelpfully. “I don’t remember being on them in the first place!”  
          “What did they _say_ you were doing?” Luna asked correcting her question.  
          “They _said_ I was sneaking food from the kitchen,” Conner said scornfully. “I’d never do that,” he added proudly. “But Madam Pomfrey said Scorpius said I had a big bag of food with me.”  
          “Interesting,” murmured Luna thoughtfully. “I wonder what happened to the bag?” She would have to look into that. The Room of Requirement had a single flaw. It didn’t provide food. That had to be gotten from elsewhere. Conner’s bag of food could have been intended for the Room, which would make him an unwitting accomplice to the intruder… If the bag had been retrieved and returned to the kitchen then someone out there could be very hungry. The kitchen would bear watching...  
          “So, did someone cast an _Imperius Curse_ on me?” Conner asked bluntly.  
          “I don’t know,” answered Luna honestly. “It is very difficult to prove an _Imperius Curse_ has happened after the fact. The curse itself leaves no identifying physical or mental mark. It is also very difficult to resist the commands of the curse or break one’s hold from it while under it’s influence and much easier to fabricate a story to justify being caught doing things one shouldn’t.”  
          “But I didn’t—” began Conner.  
          “We have only your word that you would not do such things against the evidence that you did,” reminded Luna calmly. “However, your last memories and the things you were found doing strongly suggest such a curse was cast. It may be even possible that a fall down the steps, a bump on the head and a stay in the infirmary could successfully break the effects of an _Imperius Curse_. In which case, the accident was most fortunate indeed.”  
          “Why?” Conner asked.  
          “Why were you cursed? Obviously to get some food,” she said serenely.  
          “That doesn’t take three day,” he observed bluntly.  
          “No,” Luna agreed. “We shall have to make inquiries as to your activities the rest of the time.”  
          But Luna already had an idea about that. The Room of Requirement could not be entered as long as it was occupied. Neville had already tried numerous times to reenter the Room with no luck. That implied the intruder hadn’t left or, had an accomplice who remained in the room. Clearly the intruder had left the room or Conner would not be sitting in front of her with a memory loss. Luna wasn't sure which was worse, the possibility that two or more persons had managed to sneak into and were roaming the halls of Hogwarts undetected or that one intruder had snuck in and was using students as accomplices.  
          Closer questioning of Paige and the Slytherin students determined that, while Tom had missed a last minute Prefect meeting that evening, no one had actually seen him since the Quidditch match. In fact, no one had seen him at all the rest of the weekend. As a Prefect, Tom was not accountable to anyone in the dorm for his actions. The Slytherins had assumed Tom had spent the time at Hogsmeade. Luna suspected he had spent the time in the Room of Requirement…  
          After Tom reappeared, Conner experienced a memory loss. The timing was too close to disregard. Was it more? He might have been “missing” too. It would be easy enough to check. Had anyone seen him since Friday? Luna hadn’t. Conner was a loner. No one would have thought twice had he been absent for extended periods of time. But the Gryffindor Prefect should have done nightly bed checks for third year students. He would have reported any absences! On the other hand, Conner might have been Cursed and then ordered to return to the dorms periodically to avoid being missed! If that had happened, would anyone have noticed or reported a change in Conner’s behavior?  
          The thought was very disturbing. While the intruder had not actually hurt any students, no one should be permitted to indiscriminately cast _Imperius Curses_ to fill his or her needs. School should be a safe place where students could study and learn. As Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, it was Luna’s job to keep it safe. Earlier preventative measures had not succeeded. They would have to come up with something else.  
          “Who did it?” asked Conner interrupting Luna’s thoughts.  
          “I do not know,” she replied thoughtfully. “The intruder is very elusive. Did you travel to the seventh floor alone?” Luna questioned suddenly. The students had specifically been told to stay in groups but Luna suspected Conner hadn’t.  
          “Yeah, like anyone would’ve gone with me all the way from the Great Hall to the seventh floor just to get my manga,” he said scornfully.  
          “Nor did you ask,” she concluded knowing Conner.  
          “No, I didn’t,” he confessed. “I always travel alone and it’s never been a problem,” he added defiantly.  
_“Until now,”_ Luna added silently. No need to rub it in. She closed her eyes and considered the situation. Then Luna opened her eyes and looked at the two students. “It is much more difficult to cast an _Imperius Curse_ on one student within a group without someone else noticing,” she mused out loud. Then said, “The Headmistress’ suggestion that all students travel in groups has just become a requirement,” she said decisively. “Those students who are found alone will loose house points and that includes you!” she added sternly while looking directly at Conner meeting his blue-gray eyes with hers. “There _is_ an intruder on the grounds,” she reminded him, “one who can apparently operate unseen.”    
          Luna knew that already. The artist inserted in the _Barnabas the Barmy_ tapestry had left a blank canvas before mysteriously falling “asleep” at his post. What Luna hadn’t realized was how well the intruder could cast non-verbal spells while _remaining_ invisible. “Your experience has demonstrated it is not safe to travel alone,” she told Conner softly. He flushed and looked down at the floor. “And now,” Luna said while rising from her chair, “as it is rather late, I think we need to get you back to the Infirmary and Miss Wycliff back to her dorm. Shall we?” The two students nodded their heads and rose as well.  
          Luna opened the door into the hall. Pointing her wand in one direction down the corridor she said: _“Homenum Revelio!”_ The tip of her wand did nothing. Luna slowly pointed it in the other direction. Still no response. _“Good,”_ she thought. No one there. _“I think I shall do a review of that spell in class,”_ Luna decided knowing it was usually taught in Charms. Students weren’t supposed to use their wands in the corridors but perhaps an exception should be made…

********************

          The knock sounded lightly on the door. Daniel Pilkington rose from his seat and hastened to answer it. “Hello, Holly, Becky, Mark,” he greeted warmly.  
          “Hello, Mr. Pilkington,” they greeted in return.  
          “Won’t you come in, Holly?” Daniel invited backing up to permit Holly’s entry. She stepped inside the room. Daniel thoughtfully regarded Holly’s friends, who looked up at him expectantly. “Uh, I have some rather complex private business to discuss with Holly, today,” Daniel told them. “It’s going to take a while. Why don’t you come back for her in, oh, about 2 hours?” he suggested.  
          “O.K.,” said Becky easily. “See you later,” she said cheerfully. The two turned and headed back down the hall.  
          Daniel closed the door. He turned to look at Holly and froze. The cheerful friendly smile on her face was gone. “Did you just lie to them?” she accused suspiciously.  
          “Why would you think that?” answered Daniel carefully.  
          “You’re doing Occlumency!”  
          “Oh,” said Daniel contritely. “Oops.” Daniel immediately dropped his block as if it had been a simple oversight. “Why don’t you sit down,” he suggested indication a chair especially cleaned for her. “I have something for you,” he told Holly. “It’s in here.” Daniel moved over to his brief case.  
          “Well?” demanded Holly not moving.  
          “Well what?” asked Daniel with an innocent sounding voice knowing full well what she meant.  
          “You didn’t answer my question!” she persisted.  
          “No, I didn’t,” acknowledged Daniel calmly. It was difficult keeping secrets from an Empath. “I’ll get into that later,” he told her, “but first, I want to give you something.” Daniel withdrew a small parchment scroll tied with a scarlet ribbon from his brief case and handed it to Holly.  
          “What is it?” asked Holly. “Is this it?” she asked with growing interest.  
          “Why don’t you look and see,” suggested Daniel with pride.  
          “You did it?”  
          Daniel smiled as Holly’s trembling fingers undid the ribbon.   
          The ribbon fluttered to the ground unnoticed while Holly read the contents of the scroll. “You did!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she gushed and impulsively gave Daniel a tight hug. “And he doesn’t know?” Holly asked anxiously as she rerolled the scroll.  
          “No,” assured Daniel, “he doesn’t.” Daniel reached down, picked up the ribbon and handed it to Holly. Daniel had paid several Ministry Clerks rather handsomely to “accidently” place the paperwork under mounds of boring legal forms thus burying what had been done for quite some time.  
          “I’ve more,” Daniel told Holly proudly while she carefully tied the ribbon around the scroll. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a second scroll, also tied securely with a scarlet ribbon.  
          “What is it?” Holly asked eagerly. Her green eyes shone excitedly. “What did you do?”  
          “Look and see,” Daniel suggested enigmatically and he handed her the second scroll.  
          Holly tucked the first scroll under her arm and eagerly opened the second one. “Oh my!” she whispered in disbelief as she read the words on the parchment. “I never figured on this! The Prime Minister himself?”  
          “He was pleased to help.” Daniel murmured. Getting in to see him privately without anyone knowing had been the most difficult part. But Daniel always enjoyed a challenge.  
          “Oh, thank you! Thank you again!” enthused Holly giving Daniel a second hug. “How can I ever repay you?”  
          “Mmmm,” said Daniel thoughtfully. Holly wasn’t of legal age and this wasn’t something he could easily bill either the Potters or the Wycliffs for. “Do you think you and your friends could lend some help at my next fundraising ball?”  
          “Gladly!” said Holly happily.  
          “Then we’ll call it even.” And Daniel gave Holly a warm hug back. “I’ll call you when the time comes. And now, I think it is time for a bit of celebration don’t you think?”  
          “I do,” agreed Holly happily.  
          “Good. I’ve invited a very special person to help celebrate,” Daniel told her.  
          “Really?” asked Holly. “Who?”  
          “It’s a surprise,” said Daniel mysteriously. “Let me put these away safe for you now,” he said indicating the scrolls. “I wouldn’t want them to get accidently stained during the celebration.” Holly nodded. She rapidly rerolled and tied the second scroll and then handed the two back to Daniel who promptly stowed them back in his brief case. Then Daniel closed and locked the briefcase. “The person I want you to meet is downstairs,” he informed Holly. “Shall we?” he asked cheerfully while opening the door. Holly nodded and stepped outside. She waited until Daniel had carefully locked the door to the room and then the two started down the hall.  
          “I didn’t see anyone downstairs earlier,” commented Holly as they walked.  
          “That’s not surprising,” replied Daniel calmly. “The person has a reputation for being extremely punctual so I arranged for him to arrive the same time you saw me upstairs.”  
          “That doesn’t seem right if you already knew you would be with me,” observed Holly.  
          “True,” agreed Daniel. “But I knew we wouldn’t take long. Also,” Daniel added as an aside, “he’s never been to the Hog’s Head before. I thought it might it might be kinder to give him a bit of time on his own to, uh, become _accustomed_ to the place before we met.”  
          “You may have a point there,” Holly acknowledged chuckling. “It’s not your usual establishment…” Suddenly Holly stopped.  
          “What? What is it?” asked Daniel stopping.  
          “You’re worried,” she told him suspiciously. “Why?”  
          “Of course I’m worried,” Daniel acknowledged. “I’m introducing you to someone I barely know and I hope it turns out well. It’ll be my fault if it doesn’t.”  
          “Then why do it?” question Holly.  
          “Because he is a very important person,” Daniel told her, “and someone I want you to meet.”  
          “Oh.” Holly resumed walking, but very slowly.  
          Daniel followed. Did you know Hog’s Head has an _Opaque_ landing?” he asked in an informative voice.  
          “It does?” said Holly curiously. “What’s that?”  
          “It’s a special spell put there for the patrons,” explained Daniel. “When you’re on the landing you can see the customers in the inn but they won’t see you,” _or hear you!_   Daniel added silently. He had paid Aberforth extra to add a Muffeliato spell to the original spell, just for the day. “That way if you see someone you don’t wish to meet, you can discretely wait until the, ah, undesirable person is gone…”  
          “Oh,” replied Holly. “That’s handy.”  
          “I was thinking,” continued Daniel thoughtfully, “perhaps we should use the landing to make sure he’s ready to meet us.”  
          “O.K.,” agreed Holly readily. No doubt she was curious to see this mysterious person as well. They slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs. The landing was rather small and narrow: scarcely enough space for one person at a time. Daniel set down his briefcase by the wall, took a step forward and peered over the rail. Yes, the person he planned to meet was there, standing in the middle of the room looking distinctly uncomfortable. Would Holly notice him? Daniel politely stepped back so Holly could look too.  
          Holly had scarcely reached the rail when she abruptly turned. Her body pushed against Daniel in her haste to leave but Daniel reached his arms around Holly and grabbed her in a tight bear hug. **_“NOOOOOO!”_** Holly screamed in his ear exploding in a burst of energy struggling to get free. But Daniel held on. Yes, Holly had noticed him. But then, Wizard Flint was hard to miss.


	44. Chapter 44

           Holly struggled to frantically break free but Daniel hung on. This would be easier with a freezing spell, except then Daniel wouldn’t know her responses and he needed that information to figure out what to do next. Holly continued fighting furiously to escape for what seemed like an eternity but could have only been fifteen-twenty minutes at most. Abruptly Holly stopped. Besides the labored breathing Daniel could hear and feel on his ear, Holly felt like a stiff board in his arms.  
          “Look at him!” commanded Daniel certain Holly would resume struggling once she regained her breath. Holly gave no indication that she heard him. _“Look at him!”_ Daniel commanded again using all the force and sincerity he could muster behind his words. He shifted his position so Holly could look down and actually see Wizard Flint if she wished. But she didn’t move.  
          “Look-it, Holly,” Daniel continued in a more normal voice. “I know you’re scared and you probably had good reason to be, but not of _this_ Wizard Flint! This Wizard Flint is harmless; you made him so.”  
          “He’s going to take me away,” Holly said tonelessly.  
          “No!” countered Daniel forcefully. “Look at him! Look _into_ him! He isn’t after you,” Daniel told Holly. “He doesn’t even know you’re here!”  
          “He’ll remember,” said Holly with certainty.  
          "No he won’t!” Daniel assured forcefully, “for there is nothing for him to remember!”  
          “He’ll take me away!” Holly insisted.  
          “I won’t let him!”  
          “Yes, you will,” argued Holly.  
          “Me?” Daniel scoffed. “Never!” He remembered Holly had accused him of that before but Daniel now realized Holly hadn’t sensed his sincerity the last time; he had been practicing Occlumency at the time. “Look at me! Look _into_ me!” Daniel ordered. “Do you doubt I mean what I say?”  
          There was a long silence while Daniel waited for an answer. “No,” Holly finally admitted in a soft whisper, “but you will do it anyway,” she said with certainty.  
          “And then you will be resourceful and escape,” Daniel told her confidently. “Just ... like ... _before_ ,” Daniel added firmly trying to bring Holly’s mind out of the past by reminding her of what had already happened. “Flint,” Daniel continued, “he’ll make a mistake and you’ll use it to your advantage. You did it before and you will do it _again_.” He paused to let his words sink in.  
          “You know,” Daniel mused out loud, more to himself than to Holly. “The hardest part about what happened to you last summer is not being able to tell anyone. Wizard Flint is a rather conceited person. What you did to him when you escaped, must have taken him down several notches. I can’t share your story with other wizards who have dealt with Flint’s annoying ways though I know they would enjoy hearing it; I can’t even razz Flint about it because he doesn’t know it happened!” Daniel paused. Had Holly heard a word he had said? Of course she had—she had heard him outside the courtroom. But did she understand? Daniel could only keep talking and hope something connected.  
          “I bet that other Wizard Pilkington couldn’t talk about it either!” concluded Daniel suddenly out loud. He couldn’t think of himself and the person Holly met during the summer as one and the same but in this instance they would have shared similar emotions. “Not for the same reasons, of course,” Daniel continued thoughtfully. “A Wizard Flint with absolute power would have been more than just annoying. He could have been extremely dangerous. Even so, it must have galled _that_ Wizard Pilkington to keep quiet about a juicy story of just desserts just like it does me. Perhaps that’s why he helped you afterwards…” Daniel mused. “He liked your moxie and decided to do what he could to assist. Nothing too obvious, of course, for that would get _him_ into trouble and he surely had a lot to loose with a family and all. But help he did… Helped you perhaps even more than he realized…”  
          “You can let me go, now,” Holly said suddenly and her stiff body seemed to relax.  
          “You sure?” asked Daniel looking at Holly.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly looking back at him with tears streaming from her eyes.  
          “Where are we?” Daniel asked softly.  
          “At Hog’s Head, on the landing,” replied Holly softly.  
          Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. But he had to make sure. “And who’s downstairs?”  
          “Wizard Flint,” she whispered.  
          “How many?”  
          Holly twisted her head and looked down. “One."  
          “What's he wearing?” asked Daniel cautiously knowing the Wizard Flint she had met during the summer would have worn a uniform.  
          “It’s a shiny blue-green robe with matching coat and pants beneath,” Holly said impatiently, “and I don’t see why you’d call him important—not here.”  
          “He’s important to you,” replied Daniel as he gently lowered Holly down so her feet could again touch the ground. He released his hold on her with considerable relief and stretched out his arms. “And that’s what mattered.”  
          “I would have been happy if I _never_ met him,” Holly seriously told Daniel while she straightened out her clothes.  
          “And go through life knowing that some day, some time, somewhere, you might run into Wizard Flint and have a serious flashback with perhaps no one around to talk you out of it? The uncertainty of it all hanging over your head —that sounds much worse,” countered Daniel calmly. He straightened out his own robes and then turned and looked down at Wizard Flint.  
          “Oh, well,” sighed Holly as she smoothed the tangles from her hair and readjusted her butterfly clip. “I don’t suppose it matters now. It’s over with.”  
          “Not quite,” replied Daniel quietly.  
          “Oh?” Holly looked up at Daniel, her green eyes regarding him quizzically.  
          “Yes, we still have a celebration to complete and an important person to meet.”  
          “But I already m—”  
          “You’ve _sensed_ Wizard Flint, not _met_ him,” Daniel corrected. “I was thinking a luncheon celebration might be appropriate…”  
          “What?!!” exclaimed Holly in disbelief. “You can’t seriously mean to have me eat lunch with tha—”  
          “I certainly do!” replied Daniel firmly. “What better way to wipe out the unpleasant memories of the summer than by sharing a meal with the man who once taunted and refused you food?”  
          “But he’s, ah, not,” Holly tried again, “I’ve heard things about him…”  
          “I’ve heard things about you and Albus,” commented Daniel calmly. “Should I believe them?”  
          “Well, no, but—”  
          “Then perhaps you should see for yourself whether or not the rumors are true.”  
          “Y-yes sir,” said Holly meekly.  
          Daniel smiled. “Good,” he said briskly. Daniel was glad he didn’t have to come up with more reasons to persuade Holly. “One thing, though,” he added. “Watch what you say around him.”  
          “What? Why?”  
          “Well, I understand Witch Bulstrode was paid rather handsomely for that tip she gave Rita about you.”         
          “She was?”  
          “Yes, she was.”  
          “You think Wizard Flint might talk to Rita too?”  
          “I don’t know,” replied Daniel honestly. “But I do know that Wizard Flint likes to wear clothes that are way beyond his means on his current salary.”  
          “Well, perhaps we shouldn’t do this,” worried Holly. “I mean if he’s going to go to Rita…”  
          “You shouldn’t live your life in fear of Rita,” Daniel told Holly gently. “Besides, we don’t know that he’s going to Rita. And even if he did, I wouldn’t get too upset if I were you.”  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes,” replied Daniel firmly. “Instead, you should consider it a fair trade for services he just _unwittingly_ rendered, don’t you?”  
          “Yes, sir,” said Holly reluctantly. “I suppose.” Then, “Does Cousin Harry know about this?” she suddenly asked.  
          “He does,” affirmed Daniel.  
          “And he was O.K. with it?”  
          “He was.” Holly looked at Daniel in surprise at his answer so he continued. “Mr. Potter does not particularly like Rita Skeeter,” he reminded her, “and apparently you have indicated you do not wish to give a formal interview for the paper. But this would be neither.”  
          Harry Potter had been less than pleased with the thought of imposing Wizard Flint’s presence on Holly more than necessary, especially when it came with the certain prospect of a news article afterwards. But Healer Winonan’s assertion that Miss Wycliff’s full recovery should take precedence over any article Rita might print caused Mr. Potter to give his reluctant consent. Personally, Daniel figured that if Rita thought she put one over on Mr. Potter and printed up a story on Holly without going through him first, she might ease up on her efforts to interview Holly herself or find the family residence. But he kept that suspicion to himself. Rita Skeeter could be unpredictable and Daniel saw no need to unnecessarily raise anyone’s hopes.  
          “It’s a luncheon not an interview,” Daniel continued out loud. “What Mr. Flint does afterwards is his business but I wouldn’t worry about it though,” Daniel added confidently. “It’s not like Wizard Flint is a reporter or anything so I wouldn’t expect him to ask you anything really difficult.” Holly back looked down at Wizard Flint and frowned. “What, what is it?” asked Daniel.  
          “Well, it’s weird,” began Holly thoughtfully. “You’d think he’d be a bit more upset as we’re so late.”  
          That’s because Wizard Flint is not expecting to have lunch with us,” informed Daniel calmly.  
          “He isn’t?” questioned Holly with wide eyes. “But you said we’d be eating together!”  
          “And we will,” assured Daniel. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”  
          “Huh?”  
          “I couldn’t set up a meeting with Wizard Flint without explaining things,” explained Daniel, “so I arranged for him to be here for another reason…”  
          “What reason?” asked Holly suspiciously.  
          “A bet,” he told her. “A friend of mine bet him he wouldn’t stay in the Hog’s Head for two hours…”  
          “Seriously?”  
          “Seriously.”  
          “But if he doesn’t know about the lunch, how can you be so certain that he will eat with us?” she asked.  
          “Watch and see,” Daniel told her confidently. He picked up his briefcase. “After you,” he offered stepping back to let Holly go down the stairs first.  
          Holly gulped as she looked down the stairs and then she looked at Daniel. “Must we?” she questioned apprehensively. “I mean, he doesn’t know we’re coming so he’d never know if we didn’t…” her voice trailed off in a pleading note.  
          Daniel knelt down so he was eye-to-eye with Holly. “The very fact that you are reluctant to do this is the reason why you should, Holly,” he told her softly while looking directly in her green eyes. “It’s obvious you still have a serious problem being around Wizard Flint—not the flashback kind, but a problem just the same. There’s no reason to fear him, not now.”  
          “I don’t fear him,” Holly said hastily.  
          “So why are you avoiding him?” Holly looked down guiltily. “You do Wizard Flint an injustice,” Daniel added gently. “You’re dodging him because of something that happened over the summer, something that he did _not_ do!”  
          “I know he didn’t do it,” Holly mumbled. Her voice trembled as she added, “But I just don’t –”  
          “You know _intellectually_ ,” Daniel told her as he reached out and lifted Holly’s chin so she was again looking at him. He could see the wet trail of tears flowing down her cheeks. “But you’re an Empath, Holly. And you need to know _emotionally_ too. You need to know in here.” Daniel lightly touched Holly’s chest. “That’s why this meeting is so important. You need to confirm with every part of your mind and body that this Wizard Flint is not the person you met last summer.”  
          Daniel gently brushed some strands of hair from Holly’s face. Holly reached up self-consciously, collected the strands he had brushed aside and tucked the hairs neatly back under her butterfly hair clip. “You can do this, Holly, I know you can,” Daniel encouraged. “I’ll be with you the whole time. Don’t dwell on what happened over the summer,” he told her, “Just focus your senses on the Wizard Flint here and now and it’ll be O.K.,” he said reassuringly. To his relief, Holly nodded slowly. She turned and started down the stairs. Daniel followed. “Here,” he told Holly handing her a handkerchief as they walked.  
          “Thanks,” she whispered and immediately wiped the tears off her face. Then she silently returned the handkerchief.  
          “Now, when I ask you, choose the empty table on the far side, O.K.?” Daniel instructed in a low voice while he returned the handkerchief to his pocket. “And then just follow my lead.”  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly softly.

*********************

           Holly Wycliff walked down the stairs with increasing apprehension. Despite her prostrations to the contrary, Holly was very much afraid to meet Wizard Flint. Logically, she knew nothing would happen, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding wildly at the prospect. What was it Wizard Pilkington had said? Focus on the Wizard Flint here and ignore what had happened during the summer? That was easier said than done. Flint stood in the middle of the room and his emotions seemed to shout out louder to Holly than that of anyone else. Besides everything else he was hungry and Holly shivered instinctively; she well remembered that hunger from before along with the terror and pain she had felt...  
          Wizard Pilkington took Holly’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Where do you want to sit?” he asked aloud—louder than necessary.  
          Holly scarcely looked when she raised her free arm and pointed in the direction Wizard Flint had indicated earlier. “That one,” she whispered. She shivered again suddenly realizing that to get to that table, they would have to walk right past Wizard Flint…  
          “O.K.” said Wizard Pilkington calmly. Without releasing her hand, Wizard Pilkington started towards the table pulling Holly with him. His whole being oozed confidence. Holly focused on that confidence and tried to make it her own as they steadily walked towards Wizard Flint.  
 _Recognition!!!_ Holly sensed it from Wizard Flint as soon as they drew near! _“NO!”_ Holly screamed to herself! _“He’s found me_!!!” Holly would have run then and there, except the hand holding hers gripped it even tighter and held her near.  
          “Wizard Pilkington!” Wizard Flint called out. Holly’s knees sagged in sudden relief and she clung to Wizard Pilkington’s arm for support. It was Wizard Pilkington Flint had noticed, not Holly. Wizard Flint hadn’t recognized her at all—not yet! She moved behind Wizard Pilkington keeping her body hidden from Wizard Flint.  
          Wizard Pilkington stopped. Wizard Flint came eagerly forward stopping in front of them. “Yes?” Wizard Pilkington asked calmly. “Is there something I can do for you?”  
          “I, ah, no, I guess,” stammered Wizard Flint in sudden confusion and embarrassment. “I was just surprised to see you here, that’s all.”  
          “Oh, Wizard Flint, isn’t it?”  
          “Yes!” replied Wizard Flint with relief.  
          “Well, I often come here to conduct business. And you?”  
          “I, uh, just made a delivery,” Wizard Flint replied. The lie seemed blatantly obvious to Holly. “Official business, you know,” he added in a confident tone.  
          “Really,” replied Wizard Pilkington in a thoughtful voice. “I had no idea you were willing to work on weekends…”  
          “Of course, I am,” stated Wizard Flint proudly. “It comes with the job!” That was a lie too, but it sounded convincing.  
          “That’s good to know,” replied Wizard Pilkington warmly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”  
          “Do that,” said Wizard Flint confidently. “If ever you need something done on a weekend I’m your man!” he offered.  
          The interaction between the two was all wrong—or right. Holly had gotten to know Wizard Pilkington’s easy confident personality through their various meetings together but she still somehow expected him to behave with extreme wariness and caution towards Wizard Flint—perhaps even with his head bowed respectfully the whole time. That didn’t happen. Wizard Pilkington was still respectful, but without the fear.  
          During the summer, Wizard Flint had been full of confidence, and arrogance. There was distain, too, and instant hatred towards Holly. His sense of superiority had oozed out of every pore of his body. This time, Wizard Flint was still confident and proud but that sense of superiority had been replaced with respect. He had never behaved respectfully before, not even towards Wizard Pilkington, a co-worker. Holly’s mind struggled to come to terms with her expectations and reality.  
          “Who is this?” Wizard Flint suddenly asked directing his attention towards Holly. “Your daughter?” Holly cringed inwardly at his words. Obviously, her attempt at hiding hadn’t worked.  
          “No,” replied Wizard Pilkington easily as he stepped to one side so Holly was in plain view of Wizard Flint making her feel even more exposed and vulnerable. “Actually, she’s a client of mine. Perhaps you’ve heard of her, Miss Holly Wycliff. Holly,” continued Wizard Pilkington smoothly, “this is Wizard Macklin Flint. He works in the Ministry of Magic.”  
          “Holly? Holly Wycliff?” echoed Wizard Flint in surprise. “The Empath?” Holly felt her face warm with embarrassment. But suddenly she realized his recognition had nothing to do with green eyes and she forced herself to relax. “Pleased to meet you!” said Wizard Flint enthusiastically and he stuck out his hand for her to shake.  
          Holly stared at the hand in shock! Wizard Flint’s enthusiasm was genuine! There was no hatred or disdain so prevalent during the summer. The other Wizard Flint found pleasure in Holly’s pain and fear. Sensing the same emotion as a greeting was so unexpected that Holly’s mind couldn’t cope with the inconsistency.  
          Suddenly Holly felt a slight nudge at her side and she realized she had to respond somehow. “Uh, nice to meet you, too,” stammered Holly belatedly while still staring at the hand. And knowing she had to do something about that outstretched hand that refused to drop, she cautiously brought up her own hand and touched Wizard’s Flint’s hand with her fingertips. Wizard Flint grabbed her fingers tightly and moved them rapidly up and down several times in an enthusiastic handshake before releasing his hold. Holly stared at her fingers in disbelief. She well remembered when Wizard Flint had last held her. Prior memories of pain and terror conflicted with that of a simple squeeze in greeting.  
          “I’ve heard so much about you,” continued Wizard Flint eagerly, “not that, I, uh, believed any of it!” he amended quickly. Holly felt a twinge of guilt with the lie Wizard Flint had just told and she flushed again remembering that the last article in the _Prophet_ had implied she was crazy…  
          “Ah, yes,” interjected Wizard Pilkington smoothly, “the _Daily Prophet_ does tend to exaggerate. No doubt it sells more papers that way.”  
          “Yes, I guess it could,” agreed Wizard Flint. Suddenly his stomach rumbled rather loudly. Holly could sense Wizard Flint’s immediate embarrassment at the noise.  
          “You know,” began Wizard Pilkington in a thoughtful sounding voice, “we were just about to have a bite to eat. If it is agreeable with Miss Wycliff, would you like to join us?”  
          “Would I?” said Wizard Flint. Holly could feel his sudden eagerness and excitement at the suggestion. “Why, of course I would, that is,” he hesitated and added reluctantly, “if it’s O.K. with you, Miss Wycliff?”  
          Holly looked up at Wizard Pilkington. She knew he wanted her to have this lunch but he had unexpectedly left the decision up to her. Could she do it? Did she want to? For the first time, Holly looked up at Wizard Flint. She tried to not cringe as she recognized the features. The blond hair was longer, tied neatly back somehow. His blue eyes, they were no longer cold or icy, just blue. And the emotions, they weren’t angry at all, but hopeful… “Yes,” Holly suddenly said, “I think I would like that.” And to her surprise, Holly realized that she meant it.  
          “I cannot believe my good luck!” babbled Wizard Flint happily as they walked towards the table. “I mean, I had no idea when I first stepped into Hog’s Head that I would meet let alone _share_ a lunch with _Holly Wycliff!_ I hope you don’t mind,” he added quickly to Holly, “but you _are_ a bit of a celebrity!” An apology from Wizard Flint! Was she hearing correctly?  
          “A celebrity?” murmured Holly.  
          “Well yes, after the way you found that poor Muggle girl!”  
 _Poor Muggle girl?_ The other Flint wouldn’t have said that!  
          “…And finding the plane like you did,” continued Flint exuberantly. Was that a touch of _envy_ mixed in with the usual Slytherin arrogance? Of her? “That _was_ you wasn’t it?” he asked anxiously.  
          “Yes,” Holly admitted reluctantly.  
          “I knew it!” Wizard Flint said excitedly. “The _Prophet_ never mentioned your name, but Wizard Tuttle said you were pretty broken up about it. He would have only seen you if you were at the crash site and why else would you have been there? That was my first job in the field, you know,” Wizard Flint added as an aside. “Helping to move all the wards back so the Muggles could find the plane…” Flint’s happiness was infectious. Holly was beginning to enjoy this.  
          When they reached the table, Wizard Flint abruptly stopped speaking. Holly felt a distinctive sense of disgust, uncertainty and apprehension from him. Looking at him she saw his eyes were fixed on the heavy chairs they would be sitting on. Like everything else in the Hog’s Head, they looked positively filthy. Suddenly, Wizard Flint’s emotions brightened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dainty lime green lace handkerchief. Shaking it out, he draped the handkerchief over the seat and then sat down.  
          Holly selected the chair that faced the bar, drew out her clean cloth and draped it over the chair. Its dingy gray colour immediately blended in with the usual Hog’s Head tones.  
          “So that’s how you do it!” said Wizard Flint admiringly. “I wondered.”  
          “You could always invest in some good stain resistant spells so your clothes don’t get dirty no matter what,” murmured Wizard Pilkington as he sat down in his chair.  
          “Yes,” replied Wizard Flint thoughtfully, “I can see how that might be a good idea.”  
          Holly looked up at the portrait over the bar. The poor girl was still there, still clearly looking for something. Today, she was examining the edge of the frame millimeter by millimeter. Holly often pondered the nature of the person who painted the portrait and doomed the girl in the painting to constantly look for something not there. It shouldn’t matter as it was just a portrait, but still, it seemed horribly cruel somehow.  
          Aberforth Dumbledore shuffled up to them. Holly knew him by name only as he never spoke to her except to take orders and receive payment. As always, he looked withered and old and as if he had been there for ages. “What?” Aberforth grunted gruffly. He gave no indication of having ever seen Holly before even though she ate there regularly on weekends.  
          “Two pasties and a water,” Holly said promptly and she placed the appropriate amount of coins on the table. That was what she always ordered when here. “A lot of water,” Holly amended suddenly realizing how very thirsty she felt. Aberforth grunted and picked up the coins.  
          “I’ll have a butterbeer and some stew,” ordered Wizard Pilkington as he laid down his own coins. They were picked up unceremoniously without a word.  
          The old man then fixed his attention on Wizard Flint. “Uh,” he began uncertainly. “Do you have roast beef sandwiches?” he asked hopefully. Holly cringed inwardly at the suggestion.  
          “No,” Aberforth grunted.  
          “Oh,” said Wizard Flint crestfallen. “Then, ah, what do you have?”  
          “Stew and pasties.”  
          “What kind of stew?” questioned Wizard Flint.  
         _"Meat_ stew,” came the blunt reply.  
          Wizard Pilkington leaned over to Wizard Flint. “I have no idea what the meat is,” he began confidentially, “but it usually tastes all right…”  
          “Oh, uh, I guess I’ll just have a butterbeer…”  
          Holly was sorry about that; Wizard Flint was _really_ hungry… Now she would be too. Wizard Flint reached into his pocket for payment when a motion from Wizard Pilkington stopped him. “My treat,” he told Wizard Flint pleasantly and laid down some coins for the butterbeer.  
          “Thanks!” said Wizard Flint brightening considerably.  
          “Actually,” began Wizard Pilkington when Aberforth shuffled off, “I’m glad you were free. You see I asked you to join us for a reason.”  
          Holly instinctively tensed at his words.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes, I was hoping you could help us.  
          “If I can,” agreed Wizard Flint clearly flattered.  
          “Well,” continued Wizard Pilkington, “as you probably know, Holly here has recently had the opportunity to visit the Ministry of Magic.”  
          “Yes.”  
          “Understandably, she has been asking me all sorts of questions about it ever since.” (A lie but it was fascinating how convincingly he delivered it.) “While I work at the Ministry, I thought her questions would be best answered by someone actually _employed_ by the Ministry.”  
          “Me?” questioned Wizard Flint straightening proudly in his seat at the suggestion.  
          “You.”  
          “Certainly!” agreed Wizard Flint, “if I can. What would you like to know?” he asked Holly.  
          “Um,” began Holly uncertainly. “What do you do?” It was a rather lame question but the first thing she could think of.  
          At her words, Wizard Flint happily launched into a description of his work at the Ministry. Aberforth returned just as Wizard Flint was finishing. He held a tray with two bottles, a pitcher and a huge grimy goblet on it. Then the wizard removed the goblet and set it down unceremoniously in front of Holly.  
          “Thank you,” Holly told Aberforth politely. He grunted while he filled the goblet with water from the pitcher and set the pitcher on the table as well.  
          "Thank you," murmured Wizard Pilkington as Aberforth wordlessly plunked two bottles of butterbeer on the table as well. Then he shuffled off without a word.  
          “Not very friendly, is he?” observed Wizard Flint with disapproval.  
          “That’s just the way he is,” replied Holly blandly now used to his ways. She pulled out one her wipes (Becky's Christmas gift to Holly) and cleaned off the rim of her goblet.  
          “That water doesn’t look very clean,” observed Wizard Flint with worry and revulsion.  
          “I know,” replied Holly happily. She lifted the goblet and took a huge gulp of the water. Holly closed her eyes savoring its rusty taste and then set the goblet down. “I like it that way,” she told Wizard Flint while she refilled the goblet.  
           Then Holly felt sudden dismay and disgust. She looked up in time to see a matching expression on Wizard Flint’s face as he looked at his bottle of butterbeer, no doubt noting the solid layer of grime on the outside. The look was priceless, but Holly swiftly took pity on him and handed Wizard Flint one of her wipes to clean it off. He accepted the material gratefully and proceeded to wipe off the outside of the bottle.  
          “What are the qualifications to be a clerk?” Wizard Pilkington asked conversationally. Wizard Flint immediately provided the information and then, upon request, cheerfully described his job interview and the questions he was asked.  
          Aberforth returned. He unceremoniously put a dirty plate containing two dusty looking pasties in front of Holly and a grubby bowl full of something dark brown and lumpy in front of Wizard Pilkington. It was steaming and despite its looks, the stuff didn’t smell too bad. It didn’t smell much like stew and to Holly’s relief, it didn’t smell like meat either. Wizard Flint’s stomach rumbled again. Holly quickly grabbed a pasty and began eating.  
          Wizard Pilkington drew out a spoon from his pocket and took a bite. “I’d be happy to order you a bowl,” he commented noting the hungry look in Wizard Flint’s eyes.  
          “Uh, no, thank you,” replied Wizard Flint as he eyed the food with suspicion and distrust. “I, uh, didn’t bring a spoon…”  
          “Here!” said Holly hastily holding out her plate. “I know you’re hungry and the pasties aren’t that bad, really.  
          “No!” said Wizard Flint drawing back from the plate swiftly. “I’m uh, not hungry…”  
          Wizard Pilkington coughed softly. “I wouldn’t bother using that line with an Empath,” he commented delicately. Wizard Flint reddened and Holly felt his instant embarrassment at being caught in a lie. “Truth be told," continued Wizard Pilkington smoothly, "I don't need Holly to know you are hungry. Your stomach has been rumbling loud enough for everyone to hear. We can’t enjoy our food if you’re not eating too…” Wizard Pilkington nodded suggestively at the pasty Holly still held out towards Wizard Flint.  
          Wizard Flint looked at it again dubiously. “Oh, uh, thank you,” he said and used two fingers to gingerly take the pasty off the plate. He studied the pasty apprehensively and reluctantly took a tiny bite out of it but only after Holly took another bite out of hers.  
          "Rather dry," he said critically after he had chewed and swallowed. He reached for his bottle of butterbeer and took a sip before taking a second bite. "Not much flavour, either," he added after finishing it. Then he looked at the contents of the pasty. Hang on there, this is a _meat_ pasty!"  
          "So?" said Holly coolly. She lifted her goblet and washed the rest of her pasty down with a sip of water.  
          "But I thought you were a vegetarian!"  
          "Who ever told you that?"  
          "Everyone knows it!" exclaimed Wizard Flint. "That's why you only eat curr—" Wizard Flint stopped, perhaps suddenly realizing that Holly was clearly not eating curry…  
          "I eat curry because I like it!" snapped Holly. And then, because she felt instant hurt and regret from Wizard Flint, Holly relented her sharp words. Unlike the Slytherins at school, Wizard Flint hadn't spoken to tease and taunt.  
          "I _was_ avoiding meat after the crash last year," she admitted. "The scents reminded me of," Holly broke off while searching for the right words. "Of things I didn't want to remember." Holly stopped and abruptly took another sip of water. The cool rusty flavour helped wash away the images of the crash that had suddenly flooded into her mind. It gave her another idea as well. "Cousin Harry asked the House elves to fix me vegetarian foods so I wouldn't starve," Holly continued explaining, "but then over the summer, I met someone, a very _important_ person, who helped me overcome my problems with scents."  
          Wizard Pilkington abruptly coughed and Holly sensed his sudden surprise. He hastily grabbed his bottle of butterbeer and took a sip. "Would that happen the same _very important_ person we were discussing before coming down the stairs?" he asked with a straight face when his throat had cleared.  
          "Why yes," replied Holly sweetly and she looked at Wizard Pilkington directly in the eyes. "It was." She turned her head and looked at Wizard Flint. "I can't mention the name, of course," she told him, "but he looked quite a bit like you…" Wizard Flint puffed up with pride at being compared to the unnamed "important" person. Wizard Pilkington coughed again and hastily took a large gulp of butterbeer.  
          "Are you all right?" Holly asked Wizard Pilkington in a concerned voice. But Holly wasn't worried; she knew full well that Wizard Pilkington was doing everything possible to keep from laughing out loud.  
          "I'm fine," assured Wizard Pilkington after he returned the bottle of butterbeer to the table. "Something just got caught in my throat…" Not some _thing_ , but some _thought!_ Holly knew it was another juicy bit of information Wizard Pilkington couldn’t razz Wizard Flint about—ever! It served him right for springing Wizard Flint on her that way!  
          "But why are you still eating curry if you're not, uh, you know?" asked Wizard Flint curiously.  
          "I've decided I like curry," replied Holly easily as she poured herself a second goblet of water. "but the rest of my family doesn't. So if I want to eat curry, it has to be at Hogwarts.”  
          “What classes would you recommend Holly take if she wishes to pursue a career in the Ministry,” asked Wizard Pilkington changing the subject, his amusement again under control.  
          “Well, Defense against the Dark Arts, of course,” began Wizard Flint thoughtfully. “And Charms… Possibly Runes if you want to work in archives,” he continued, “but I wouldn’t bother with Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures though. And Divination is an absolute waste of time!” he confided.  
          “It is?” questioned Holly. “I thought the Department of Mysteries had to do with prophecies…” She felt a sudden surge of surprise from Wizard Pilkington and guessed that maybe the Department of Mysteries wasn’t common knowledge.  
          “It is,” confirmed Wizard Flint, “but I’ve been there and it’s mostly empty dusty shelves. It’s not like people make prophesies these days and the ones they have are so dated as to be positively useless. If you’re taking Divination right now, do what you must to pass the class, of course, but I wouldn’t take anything Trelawney says seriously!”  
          “Really? But she sounds so sure of herself.”  
          “She may, but that doesn’t mean she's right,” replied Wizard Flint confidently as Holly took a sip of water. “Take me, for example,” he added. “Trelawney told me that I shouldn’t eat roast beef sandwiches; that they were _unlucky_ for me!” Holly choked on the water and started coughing. Wizard Pilkington reached over and patted her sharply on the back effectively disguising his own surprise.  
          “She did?” Holly asked when she again had control of her voice.  
          “She did,” asserted Wizard Flint oblivious of the reaction his words had caused. “Time and time again she told me that roast beef was bad luck and I should eat ham sandwiches instead! But I don’t even _like_ ham!” Wizard Flint finished off his butterbeer and set the bottle back down on the table before continuing. “So I set out to prove her wrong!”  
          “You did?”  
          “Yes. I’ve been eating roast beef sandwiches at every opportunity and look at me! I was Prefect while at Hogwarts, have landed a good job at the Ministry; and now, this! I had no idea I’d be so lucky when I woke up this morning!” Wizard Flint exclaimed jubilantly.  
          “Glad we could help prove your point,” said Wizard Pilkington dryly but his emotions were seething with amusement.  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly. And she wondered if Professor Trelawney had given the same advice to the Wizard Flint in that other world… Did she owe her escape and ultimate success to the contrary obstinate nature of Wizard Flint? Holly shuttered and took a long drink of rusty water to chase away the thought.  
          “And on that note,” Wizard Pilkington said briskly while returning his spoon to his pocket, “I believe it is time for us to leave.” He rose from his chair. Holly gulped down the rest of the water in her goblet and stood as well. “Thank you so much for sharing your time with us,” Wizard Pilkington told Wizard Flint pleasantly. “It’s been a most agreeable meal.”  
          “Yes, it has,” said Holly. She picked up her clean cloth and put it away while Wizard Flint pushed back his chair and stood.  
          “Have a nice day,” Wizard Pilkington told Wizard Flint and then added, “Shall we?” he asked Holly.  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Holly. “Good-bye,” she said to Wizard Flint. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”  
          “And you,” Wizard Flint smiled cheerfully. He inclined his head towards both Holly and Wizard Pilkington. Then Holly and Wizard Pilkington headed towards the door.  
          As they reached the door, two younger wizards wearing peacock blue robes opened it and walked in. Holly caught Wizard Pilkington’s sense of recognition immediately as he looked at them and was sure the other two recognized him but the three passed each other without a word.  
          “Friends of yours?” asked Holly when they were outside the Hog’s Head.  
          “Yes,” replied Wizard Pilkington. Holly felt satisfaction from his emotions.  
          “They the ones who bet Wizard Flint?” she guessed.  
          “Yes,” replied Wizard Pilkington after they had traveled a few more steps.  
          “Do you think they’ll guess that you helped Wizard Flint win the bet?” questioned Holly as they walked.  
          “Probably.”  
          “Won’t they be mad at you for causing them to loose money?”  
          “I doubt it.”  
          “Why?”  
          “I also bet them they couldn’t get Wizard Flint to stay in the Hog’s Head for two hours… They won’t loose anything in this venture.”  
          “But won’t they wonder why?”  
          “I doubt it,” replied Wizard Pilkington confidently. “They’re Ravenclaws,” he added. “They’ll probably spend more time wondering why I wanted to engineer an “accidental” meeting between you and Wizard Flint. But they’ll never ask me directly or say a word about it to Wizard Flint or anyone else. That’s not our way.”  
          “Oh.” Then, “Where are we going?”  
          “To the Shrieking Shack.” And then Wizard Pilkington added answering Holly’s unspoken question, “I believe your friends are waiting for you there.”  
          “But you told them to come back to the Hog’s Head.”  
          “I did,” agreed Wizard Pilkington calmly, “but then Mr. Potter met them at the end of the hall and suggested they wait for you instead near the Shrieking Shack… We couldn’t afford to have them possibly arriving early for a meal and interrupting things.”  
          “Cousin Harry was at the Hog’s Head?” Holly asked with surprise.  
          “He was,” confirmed Wizard Pilkington. “As was Healer Winonan. It seems they were a bit worried about you having a flashback…”  
          “Oh.”  
          “I think they slipped out the back door after we went to lunch. Do you forgive me?”  
          “What? Why?”  
          “For lunch. I know it probably wasn’t the plan you had made for today…”  
          “That’s O.K.,” Holly told him. “It was a meal I shouldn’t have missed. I’m glad you made me do it.”  
          “I didn’t make you do anything,” Wizard Pilkington reminded Holly, his eyes twinkling cheerfully.  
          “Strongly recommended,” conceded Holly with a laugh. “Wizard Flint wasn’t at all like I expected. Even for a Slytherin,” she reflected.  
          “Mmm,” said Wizard Pilkington with satisfaction. “I find some Slytherins tend to mature considerably after they leave Hogwarts.”  
          “Oh,” said Holly thoughtfully. “That’s good to know.”  
          “If you don’t mind, could you tell me what happened over the summer that helped you overcome your problem with scents?” Wizard Pilkington inquired curiously.  
          “Someday,” replied Holly vaguely. “Today, I think I’d rather remember the Wizard Flint I just met instead of dwelling on the past.”  
          “That’s as it should be,” said Wizard Pilkington approvingly. He slowed to a stop. “I see your friends up ahead,” he told Holly. Holly looked up and easily recognized Mark Becky, Lynette, Susan, and Mickey seated together. “Why don’t you go ahead and join them,” he suggested. “I have other things to do today.”  
          “O.K.” Holly said. “I’ll see you later.”  
          She started ahead when Wizard Pilkington called out, “Don’t forget your parchments.” He opened his briefcase, drew out the two scrolls and handed them to Holly.  
          “Thanks,” said Holly while taking the scrolls. She tucked them carefully away and then reached around and impulsively gave Wizard Pilkington a warm hug. “Thanks for everything,” she repeated.  
          “My pleasure,” said Wizard Pilkington returning the hug affectionately.  
          Then Holly ran up to greet her friends.  
          “Are you all right?” asked Becky worriedly.  
          “I’m fine,” assured Holly.  
          “We knew something was up when Mr. Potter asked us to change the meeting location without telling us why,” added Mark, “just not what.”  
          “Have you eaten?” asked Susan. “We kind of got hungry and ate while we were waiting…”  
          “That’s O.K.,” said Holly cheerfully. “I’ve eaten too. And you’ll never guess who I had lunch with!”


	45. Chapter 45

          “Are you certain you want to do this?” asked Becky worriedly while they walked down the corridor. The corridor was quiet and empty.  
          “Yes!” said Holly determinedly while clutching her wand tightly. “I’m tired of avoiding him, tired of letting him rule my life!”  
          “I still think we should have brought along more people,” said Mark. He was walking on Holly’s other side also holding his wand up alertly. Headmistress McGonagall had instructed all students to remain in groups, the larger the better, and even then suggested they not wander about the school without good reason.  
          “No,” replied Holly. “They’ve got their own work to do. I feel bad enough imposing on you two let alone the rest of the Hufflepuffs.” After her successful encounter with Wizard Flint, Holly had become more determined than ever to eliminate Pettigrew’s voice. Heightened security and increased awareness of an intruder among their midst had made Holly acutely aware of the convoluted route she took every day to class. Even with Mark and Becky, Holly felt exposed and alone when walking to the docks and through the secret passages other students rarely used. There was safety in numbers and the stairs looked eminently safer. Unfortunately, knowing there was a way to class without listening to Pettigrew, Holly hadn’t been able to bring herself to venture up the stairs... So she had to find a way to get rid of Pettigrew.  
          Mark had once suggested Holly talk to him as she had to Ravindra and Roland. Holly had talked to Pettigrew numerous times, mostly in her head, pleading, cursing, shouting, screaming… All to no avail. But Mark thought it might help if Holly had a face instead of just a voice to talk to. So Holly was determined to give it a try.  
          They rounded a corner and stopped. Becky lifted her wand and shouted, _“Homenum Revelio!”_ The tip of her wand did nothing. Becky slowly pointed it from side to side. Nothing happened. “All clear,” she announced and the three continued forward.  
          Carefully the three made their way to the first floor stopping finally in front of the painting depicting the _Defeat of Lord Voldemort_. Holly pointed her wand at the painting. In a commanding voice and a wave of her wand she repeated the words beneath the painting.

_“Sometimes you’ve got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes you’ve got to think about the greater good.”_

          The painting swung open revealing a room beyond. The three of them walked inside. The painting moved silently back in place closing the opening behind them.    
          The softly lit semi-circlular room seemed peaceful and calming. The lavender colored bottom of the back wall which gradually turned dark purple, then to midnight blue and from there to midnight black reminded Holly of twilight. The flecks of silver and gold that flashed and twinkled at random still looked like twinkling stars at night. But now Holly knew the twinkling lights weren’t really lights at all but names, hundreds of them, all victims of Lord Voldemort.  
          Becky again lifted her wand and shouted, _“Homenum Revelio!”_ The tip of her wand did nothing. Becky slowly pointed her wand around the room. Nothing happened. “All clear,” she announced, “but I still think we should stay with you.”  
          “No!” said Holly firmly. “I have no idea what I am going to say to Pettigrew and I definitely don’t want an audience while I try to figure it out.”  
          “But what about the rules?” questioned Mark worriedly.  
          “We aren’t breaking any rules,” assured Holly. “We’re not supposed to walk in the halls and corridors alone and we haven’t. Nothing was ever said about being in a room alone!”  
          “But—”  
          “You and Becky wait for me outside,” continued Holly not giving Mark a chance to argue further. “You’ll be in the corridors together so you won’t be breaking any rules. I’ll be inside alone which isn’t against the rules either. Just guard the door so nobody bothers me,” Holly added resolutely. “I have to do this alone!” she insisted. “It’ll be O.K.,” she reassured them. “I’ll see you in a bit,” Holly finished urging the two back out the door. The two reluctantly stepped back outside. The door swung shut leaving Holly alone in the room.

*********************

          Holly pocketed her wand and walked slowly towards the sparkly wall. When she got close enough, she studied the names on the wall. They were alphabetized so the one she sought was easy to find, Peter Pettigrew. Holly slowly reached out and touched the name. There were other names she would rather touch, other people she would rather remember, but not today.  
          Immediately, a shaft of gold light shot out of the name. The light stopped just above Holly’s head and formed the figure of a person. She recognized him immediately, rather short and portly, with a pointed nose and small eyes. He smiled proudly out at Holly as his figure slowly rotated. Holly studied the figure as it turned. This Pettigrew looked much younger and thinner than the man Holly had seen during the summer nor did he have a silver hand.  
 _“The photo had to have been taken before,”_ thought Holly, “ _before he betrayed James and Lily Potter and framed Sirius Black._ How could you have done such a thing?” she asked aloud. “Lord Voldemort must have forced you into it!” Holly concluded. “You smile in ignorance of all the horrible things you will do! Or,” she questioned suddenly, “do you smile in anticipation of them?” The thought made Holly shiver. Had Pettigrew gone willingly to Lord Voldemort’s side? Had he known even then the terrible things he would do and was just waiting for the right moment? The figure of Pettigrew continued to smile, continued to turn. Suddenly it vanished in a shower of stars making the rest of the room seem black in comparison.  
          Holly reached out and touched the Peter Pettigrew’s name again. Again the shaft of gold light shot out of the name and formed the figure of Pettigrew. Again Peter Pettigrew smiled proudly out at Holly and started to rotate.  
          “You shouldn’t be here!” Holly told the image. “You betrayed Lily and James Potter for Lord Voldemort and they died! You killed Cedric Diggory! You forced my grandparents into hiding and destroyed the lives of Sirius Black and Cousin Harry,” she told him. “You even cut off your hand for Lord Voldemort! Your hand!!!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “What kind of person would do that?” she asked the image. “And he killed you anyway!” Pettigrew continued his slow rotation unaware of Holly’s words. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Holly stated suddenly while staring at the smiling figure. “Why Cousin Harry never tried to have you removed from the Memorial because in the end, you too, died at the _hand_ of Lord Voldemort. Did you ever guess it would happen?” Holly questioned. “Or did you think you backed the winner and your actions would insure you a long life by his side?” Pettigrew did not reply. The figure continued smiling while silently completing its rotation and again vanished in a shower of sparks.  
          Holly sighed. She pressed the name again. Again the light appeared and Peter Pettigrew stood proudly in front of her. This time Holly tried to match the smiling figure with the voice that continually whispered in her ear. “I hate you!” she told the figure. “You wanted to ruin the Headmaster and for that I hate you! Why would you want to do that? Why? What had he ever done to you?” Holly demanded. “What had anyone done to deserve what you did to them? You ruined their lives and now you’re ruining mine! I hate you! I hate you! _I hate you!!!”_ she screamed at Pettigrew. Pettigrew smiled proudly at Holly and continued to turn, oblivious of her words.  
          “How did you know?” Holly whispered suddenly. “You knew my appearance would disturb him. Did you think it was just because I looked like Lily, somebody he would have recognized and known but was long dead? Or did you know something more? Was the Headmaster’s secret not a secret to you?” Suddenly, that smile looked like more than just pride. Pettigrew seemed to smile knowingly at Holly as he turned. “When did you learn?” demanded Holly as she followed this new trail of thought. “Did you know before she died? Or did you learn sometime later? What other secrets did you learn while running around as a rat?” Pettigrew continued to smiled and again vanished in a shower of sparks.  
          Holly lifted her hand to his name and then stopped. _“This was foolish!”_ She suddenly decided. _“A waste of time.”_ Talking to Pettigrew had only given her more questions than answers and she was certain none of it would help get rid of the voice in her head.  
          Holly drew out her wand and walked to the door. She thought about remaining to visit some of the other names in the room while she was there but decided against it. It wouldn’t be fair to Mark and Becky waiting outside for her. The door/painting swung open and Holly stepped outside into the hall.

********************

 _“That’s it! You just keep those legs moving, Missy!”_ Pettigrew’s squeaky voice shot through Holly’s body like a jolt of electricity freezing her in place!  
          “What?” Holly faintly asked. Her eyes flicked about in confusion. She was on the landing with one foot lifted clearly about to climb the stairs. How had that happened? How had she gotten there? A slight movement in the corner of her eye caused Holly to turn her head. Professor Lovegood stood next to her. She was in the process of taking a step up on the stairs when she stopped, turned and looked calmly at Holly with her silvery eyes. Two gray moths fluttered gently in the Professor’s blonde hair and pink colored cork earrings swayed gently back and forth. Her face had its usual serene expression but there was something odd about Professor Lovegood. Holly puzzled over it as she saw the Professor raise her wand…  
          With a rush of adrenaline Holly raised her arm, made a fist, and swept it down firmly striking Professor Lovegood’s wand wrist using a down-block as she had been taught in Tang Soo Do class. The wand fell to the ground behind them with a loud clatter and without looking back, Holly raced up the stairs. As she ran her fingers desperately reached for the belt that carried Lily’s wand. There was no wand within! The case was empty!  
 _“NOOOOO!”_ Holly thought in panic and kept climbing the stairs. Without stopping, Holly frantically tried to think what to do next. “People! People! People!” she muttered to herself. _“Where would there be people?”_ Seeing no one and feeling horribly exposed, Holly crouched low and kept near the banister hoping it would shield her as she continued running up the stairs. When she reached the forth floor Holly turned off the stairs and started down the corridor. She kept running without pausing to rest until she turned into the library.  
          There were several students in the library. They looked up in surprise at Holly’s hasty entrance. “The intruder!” she said breathlessly to no one in particular. “She’s after me!”  
          Too tired to see straight, Holly heard the sound of several chairs scooting back as all the students at one table stood, wands extended. “Where?” somebody asked. Holly recognized the voice of Matthew Kirkland.  
          “Behind me!” she panted. Eight students, all Gryffindors, rushed past Holly and out the opened door. Holly sensed and recognized almost all of their emotions, the whole Potter clan, Taylor, Lawrence, and Conner had stepped outside. Matthew was in the lead. Holly couldn’t sense Matthew; he practiced Occlumency.  
 _“Homenum Revelio!”_ Matthew said in a commanding voice. After a moment he announced, “There’s no one here.”  
          Holly cautiously stepped outside the library and looked about. “We were on the stairs…” she began hesitantly. James and Lawrence promptly left the group and sped down the corridor.  
          Soon after, Holly heard a shout, _“Homenum Revelio!”_ A little while later she heard “All clear!” and everyone immediately relaxed their wands.  
          “What happened?” asked Matthew as James and Lawrence came into view.  
          “I was leaving the Memorial,” began Holly, “and then I was on the stairs hearing that squeaky—and Professor Lovegood was next to me, but it wasn’t Professor Lovegood.”  
          “It wasn’t?” questioned Conner. “How could you tell?”  
          “The emotions,” whispered Holly. “They were all wrong!”  
          “Must have been polyjuice!” whistled James. “So who was it really?” he asked. “Did you recognize the emotion?”  
          “No! There wasn’t any!”  
          “But there had to have been for you to know it was all wrong,” he insisted.  
          “You don’t understand,” explained Holly. “I couldn’t sense her at all! I can always sense Professor Lovegood. Always! But this time I couldn’t!”  
          “But she practices Occlumency doesn’t she?” asked Matthew in disbelief.  
          “Not like you,” informed Holly. “Professor Lovegood’s emotions are always there, just a bit, but there weren’t any at all this time, so it couldn’t have been her!”  
          “So what’d you do?” questioned Albus.  
          “I knocked the wand out of her hand and I ran!” admitted Holly.  
          “Why didn’t you use your wand?” questioned Lily.  
          “I didn’t have it. My wand was in my hand when I left the Memorial,” said Holly remembering, “but it wasn’t when I was on the stairs. I don’t know where it is! My other one’s gone too!” Holly added suddenly remembering the empty belt.  
          “What were you doing in the Memorial?” questioned Conner suddenly.  
          “I was trying to get rid of …” Holly lowered her voice to a whisper, “Pettigrew!”  
          “Alone?”  
         “Of course not! Becky and Mark were with me waiting out—” Holly’s eyes widened in sudden fear. “Becky and Mark!” she exclaimed. “They were supposed to be outside the door keeping watch! Something must have happened to them!”  
          “Come on!” said Matthew and the group hurried down the corridors to the Memorial.

*********************

          The corridor in front of the _Defeat of Lord Voldemort_ painting was still and empty. “They’re not here!” whispered Holly, stating the obvious.   
          “Do you sense anyone?” asked James.  
          “No,” answered Holly hollowly. “No one at all!” They could be anywhere!  
          “Don’t worry,” said Rose reassuringly. “They’re probably just asleep or unconscious somewhere.”  
          “I hope so,” murmured Holly worriedly. This was all her fault and if something had happened to Becky and Mark because of it…  
 _“Homenum Revelio!”_ shouted Matthew pointing the wand up the corridor. His wand revealed no one.  
          “What about inside the Memorial?” suggested Rose.  
          James pointed his wand at the painting and said,

_“Sometimes you’ve got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes you’ve got to think about the greater good.”_

          The painting frame swung open. Albus, and Taylor stepped inside. Holly heard Albus shout, _“Homenum Revelio!”_  
          After a moment, he and Taylor came back out. “No one there,” Albus reported.  
          “Perhaps inside the classroom!” suggested Holly hopefully. Matthew opened the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and the group walked in.  
          Though well lit, the room looked eerily empty. Holly’s eyes immediately went up to the ceiling and the skeleton where the Professor sometimes lounged reading her books and working puzzles. No one was there.  
          “Shouldn’t the lights be off and the door locked when the Professor isn’t here?” questioned Lily.  
          “I don’t know!” answered Holly. “You’d think so, but then, I’ve never been here when the Professor wasn’t.”  
 _“Homenum Revelio!”_ shouted Conner raising his wand and pointing it slowly around the room. But there was no response.  
          “What about in the practice room?” suggested Albus.  
          Lily walked up to the mirror and knocked once. Nothing happened. “That’s odd,” she said. “It’s always opened when I did that before.”  
          Taylor walked up and gave the door three sharp raps. Again, nothing happened.  
          “Stand back and cover your eyes!” said James while aiming his wand at the mirror. Everyone backed up and turned their heads. “Ready?” James asked. Hearing no dissent, he shouted, _“Bombardia Maxima!”_ while aiming his wand at the mirror. The glass exploded easily revealing the room beyond. Inside lay three still forms.  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly running forward. The nearest was Mark. He lay ever so still with his glasses askew on his head. Holly heaved a sigh of relief when she saw his chest move up and down.  
         “Becky’s alive!” announced Matthew.  
          “As is Professor Lovegood,” said Lawrence. Holly felt herself sag with relief at the news.  
          “Mark, wake up!” said Holly gently shaking his shoulder. But Mark didn’t stir.  
          “They look asleep,” observed Lily as she walked from person to person.  
          “Yes,” agreed Rose, “but as they don’t seem to be waking up, it’s probably spell or potion induced.”  
          We’d best get them all to the infirmary,” said Matthew as he removed his robe and draped it over Professor Lovegood. She had on no outer garments. With a single motion, Matthew swept her up in his arms. Lawrence and Conner picked up Becky. James came over and, with Holly’s help, lifted Mark. “The rest of you are on guard duty,” admonished Matthew sternly as he stepped carefully through the broken shards of mirror. They nodded their heads solemnly drawing out their wands. Albus and Taylor took the lead while Rose and Lily followed. The group slowly made their way towards the infirmary.

 ********************

          “Miss Wycliff?”  
          Holly lifted her head and saw Paige Crowley’s black eyes staring into hers. Despite the late hour, Paige was impeccably dressed. A form fitting forest green dressing gown seemed to flow over her slender body under the standard black wizard robes that was cast loosely over her shoulders. Her long black hair seemed to shine in the dim lighting. It hung loosely down her back and not a strand looked tangled or out of place.  
          “Yes?” Holly questioned. She was holding Becky’s hand tightly and hoping that Becky would feel it and wake. Holly knew that was unlikely but still she tried.  
          Madam Pomfrey had agreed that Mark, Becky and Professor Lovegood were in some sort of spell or potion-induced sleep. She decided it would be best to wait and see if the effects wore off before trying remedies. If they didn’t wake in the morning, she would take steps to try to wake them. James and Matthew had left to report what had happened to the Headmistress. Lawrence and the rest had gone back to their dorm.  
          Holly refused to leave the infirmary. Consumed with guilt, she insisted she remain until they woke. Madam Pomfrey had reluctantly consented. Accordingly, Madam Pomfrey had sent a message to Professor Iverson and Prefect Gwen letting them know Holly would be at the Infirmary for the night.  
          “The Headmistress wishes to see you,” said Paige coolly. “I’ve been asked to provide an escort.”  
          “Why?” asked Holly bluntly. The last she’d heard was that there would be time in the morning for more questions and answers, hopefully after her friends had woken.  
          “I don’t know,” replied Paige unperturbedly, “but I think I saw Mr. Potter standing in the shadows in her office.”  
          “Cousin Harry?” That changed things. Perhaps she was being asked to the Headmistress’ office to see him. Holly stared at Paige intently seeking more information. Paige’s wand was out ready for use. As always, her expression was calm and unreadable. Nor could Holly sense any emotions from Paige. That was usual for Paige; she was very good at Occlumency. In addition, Holly knew Paige was an Auror student. They were the best of the best, so it made sense that the Headmistress might use her to summon Holly. Holly looked over at Madam Pomfrey questioningly.  
          “Go ahead,” said Madam Pomfrey kindly. “I’ll stay with them.”  
          Holly nodded. She reluctantly released Becky’s hand. “I’ll be back soon,” she told Becky and rose out of her seat.  
          “No need to hurry,” informed Madam Pomfrey reassuringly. “I don’t think they’ll wake ‘till morning at the earliest.”   
          Holly nodded and walked over to Paige.  
          Paige stood aside letting Holly step through the door first. Then she followed. “Wait!” Paige commanded. Holly waited as Paige pointed her wand up and down the corridor. There was no reaction. “Now we may go,” she said lowering her wand a fraction.  
          “You didn’t say anything,” commented Holly as the two walked down the corridor.  
          “Of course not,” replied Paige proudly. “Spells work much faster when done non-verbally.” When they reached the corner, Paige made Holly stand back while she did a second check. “How did you know it wasn’t Professor Lovegood?” she asked curiously when they continued walking.  
          “Um, I just did,” said Holly non-committally. She felt uncomfortable talking about the emotions she felt from others.  
          “Well, it was very clever of you,” said Paige in an approving voice. “I expect you wish to go down to the dungeons and take the passage to the forth first?” she added as they walked.  
          “Uh, yes,” agreed Holly. “I guess.” She hadn’t really given Pettigrew a thought since those terrifying minutes on the stairs.  
          They reached the corner. Paige made Holly stop while she went ahead and checked the next section of the corridor. “All clear,” she told Holly and motioned her to go ahead.  
          Holly turned the corner and stopped. She frowned. “No,” Holly disagreed, “Someone is here. Someone … under the…” She stopped. Was she supposed to mention she could recognize the effects of the _Imperious Curse_ while in use? Professor Lovegood had recommended she not.  
          “There’s no one,” argued Paige coldly. “I know my spells. Can you sense _thestrals_ too?”  
          Holly flushed. Paige was in effect calling Holly a “liar!” “I cannot sense thestrals!” she told Paige sternly. “But Albus _can_ see them!   And I _know_ for certain there is someone just beyond that statue!”  
          Holly hurried ahead to prove her point. When she neared the statue Holly stopped. For standing right beyond the statue, in a doorway she had never before noticed, was Paige Crowley! She wore a light green nightgown; her long black hair was tangled and loose about her shoulders; her face was inscrutable as always but her emotions were warm, fuzzy and happy!  
          In shock, Holly wheeled about only to look into the inky black eyes of _another_ Paige! And then, nothing!


	46. Chapter 46

          The incessant pounding wouldn’t stop. Holly moaned as her hands went to her head in an effort to stop the pain. It didn’t work. What had happened? Why did she hurt so? With a sudden rush the memories came back: Paige standing calm in the hall and a _second_ Paige, whose inky black eyes looked directly into her!  
          Pain forgotten, Holly’s eyes flew open. She ignored the small table covered with a flowery gray and pink lace tablecloth in front of her and a second similarly decorated table nearby while she tried to get up. But she couldn’t! Frantic to stand, Holly tried again but couldn’t! Something was preventing her! She looked for the cause and found a dark pink sash wrapped tightly around her waist holding her securely to the heavy brown black chair she sat in!  
          “Ah, I see we’ve awaken,” came a girlish cheerful high-pitched voice filled with equally cheerful emotions. Holly looked up and saw a stout squat elderly lady with short curly brown-gray hair. She wore a pink skirt, a matching cardigan sweater and a white frilly blouse beneath the sweater. She carried a silver tray with a tea set, a teapot and dishes. There was a wide smile on the lady’s broad flabby face. “And how are we feeling” she asked while still smiling.  
          “I know you!” exploded Holly as the lady set the tray down on the table near Holly. The base of the teapot was inky black. The black color gradually lightened until it was a pale gray at the top of the pot. A spray of dainty pink flower seemed to grow up and around the side. The other dishes were similarly decorated.  
          “Yes, of course you do,” replied Witch Umbridge smiling even wider revealing her sharp pointy teeth. “We met in Knockturn Alley. Though why any proper young lady would have been permitted there is beyond me.” She frowned disapprovingly at the thought.  
          “That wasn’t his fault!” said Holly impatiently. “You’ve got to help me get out of here!” Holly added urgently while plucking desperately at the sash around her waist looking for its end.  
          Witch Umbridge frowned again. “Why ever for?” she asked as she picked up the teapot and began to pour some tea into a cup.  
          “Paige is under the _Imperius Curse_ and there’s someone using Polyjuice potion, someone who looks like Paige and I’ve got to tell the Headmistress!”  
          “Oh, there’s no need to disturb the Headmistress about that,” replied Witch Umbridge smiling broadly as she set down the filled cup of tea. “I hardly think my neice will be going anywhere else tonight and as for the Polyjuice, I can assure you that two times in one night is _more_ than enough!” she smiled even wider again showing her pointy teeth. This time she reminded Holly of a shark with her prey!  
          Holly stopped trying to undo the sash and stared at Witch Umbridge. “It was you!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “But it couldn’t be! I can sense—”  
          “My emotions?” interrupted Witch Umbridge, her face suddenly serious. “But of course you can! My dear, I have been working for the Ministry since before you were born. If you think I haven’t picked up a thing or two during all that time then you are sorely mistaken!” The warm happy feelings abruptly vanished and Holly could sense nothing—absolutely nothing!  
          “How is your head, by the way?” the witch suddenly asked with a voice that oozed concern while she while she picked up a set of tongs. Holly could again sense emotions of total happiness. “I’m afraid it hit the wall a teensy bit hard earlier. That was unfortunate,” she added with a sorrowful sounding voice, “but we couldn’t let you do something foolish or run off like the other time, now could we? One lump or two?” she asked meaning the sugar. “One lump or two—oh my,” mused Witch Umbridge thoughtfully. “I think I’ve made a joke!” and she giggled happily.  
          “Why am I here?” asked Holly ignoring the question.  
          “Because I wanted to have a private little chat with you,” explained Witch Umbridge still smiling. She placed two lumps of sugar in the cup and then picked up a spoon. It looked silver with a handle that darkened to black on the end.  
          “Me?”  
          “You,” she confirmed and the witch proceeded to stir the tea gently. “And I don’t mind telling you that it’s been a very difficult project. Do you realize that you’re never alone, ever?” Witch Umbridge halted what she was doing and held the cup and spoon in midair to speak directly to Holly, looking at her with those wide bulging eyes. “I mean I know the Hufflepuffs encourage their first years to travel in groups but you’re not a first year any more and you _still_ travel with others! Even at Hogsmeade, you’re never alone though I might have been able to arrange something had you frequented the Three Broomsticks like regular students!” she added musing. “But Aberforth watches everyone like a hawk at the Hog’s Head. And the luncheon I planned to have with you and Witch Bulstrode after I intended to “accidentally” run into you at the lift on your way out of the Ministry fell through because the two of you used the stairs instead! Honestly!” Witch Umbridge added while setting down the spoon. “Who uses the stairs these days? And poor Cousin Pucey lost his appointment because he couldn’t get you out of Hogwarts for a _single_ day! That was such a disappointment!” she finished with a shake of her head. “So with time running short, my dear, you’ve forced me to take more desperate measures to arrange our meeting… Would you like some cream or lemon?”  
          “But why me?”  
          “Because you are the one who is both _early and late!”_ replied Witch Umbridge happily. She gave a little girlish giggle and a throat-clearing cough _(hem, hem._ ) “Cream, I think,” she added. “It’s much more soothing.”  
          “What?” It was difficult to follow the conversation while the witch kept on talking about tea.  
          “Paige was out picking moon flowers and saw you fly in with that oaf Hagrid after school had begun!” explained Witch Umbridge as she picked up a small pitcher. “She mentioned the odd arrival to her great aunt Eliza in a letter, who of course, shared the letter with me and I knew, _knew,_ the time had finally come!” The witch cleared her throat again _(hem, hem)_ while she carefully began to pour some cream in the cup.  
          “Huh?”  
          “You have no idea what I am talking about, do you?” smiled Witch Umbridge showing her white pointy teeth. “But then it was just a matter of time before you left the _Room of Doom_ for the second time… You have, haven’t you?” She stopped pouring and held the pitcher in the air over the cup. Her round eyes regarded Holly intently while she spoke. Holly gulped. How did Witch Umbridge know about the Tom Riddle Room? “But of course you have,” continued the Witch cheerfully not waiting for an answer. “Why else would you have received that prophecy?” The witch set the pitcher back down on the tray.  
          “Prophecy? What prophecy?” asked Holly confused.  
          “You know, the one about “seeing too much and helping the hidden…” Witch Umbridge picked up the spoon and stirred the tea in the cup.  
          “You know about that?” squeaked Holly. Holly could feel her whole body turn cold with sudden fear. She’d only told Cousin Harry about Trelawney’s words.  
          “Of course I know,” replied the witch patiently while she lifted the spoon from the cup. “Why do you think I kept removing your things and leaving them in Trelawney’s room? I had to get you to come back to the Professor when there were less people around. I knew given the right opportunity Trelawney would eventually make another prophecy!”  
           “You were there!” whispered Holly her eyes widened with comprehension.  
          “That would make me the “hidden,” don’t you think?” admitted Witch Umbridge smugly as she set down both spoon and cup in front of Holly. “I presume you must be the one who _sees_ too much,” she added seemingly oblivious to Holly’s reaction. “What _is_ it you see too much of? No matter,” the witch continued when Holly didn’t answer, “it was that very prophecy which convinced me my time would be better spent devising a way to spend more time with you rather than continue my search of Hogwarts. I should have ignored the risks and questioned you right then and there, but how was I to know how difficult it would be to pin you down later…” The witch gave another throat-clearing cough _(hem, hem)_ and then picked up the pot and the second teacup on the tray.  
          “You’re the “evil eye!” exclaimed Holly suddenly realizing Professor Trelawney’s words had been _literal_ not metaphorical.  
          “Yes, yes,” said Witch Umbridge impatiently as she poured the tea. “Trelawney gets a little melodramatic, don’t you think? I’m not “evil” at all. Just determined.” She set the teapot down.  
          “But you did more than just “watch” didn’t you?” accused Holly.  
          “Perhaps,” admitted the witch without concern while picking up a wedge of lemon.  
          “Did you set off the Weasley Smoke bomb?”  
          “That turned out rather well, don’t you think?” said Witch Umbridge in a pleased sounding voice. She looked up and smiled as she squeezed the juice from the lemon into her tea. “I got a carriage to myself and no one noticed all the extra packages and supplies Paige brought in.”  
          “And the food fight?”  
          “Paige slipped me the meatball and then I went to the Gryffindor table…” she admitted while setting the lemon rind on the saucer. “I even stood behind the Potters when I tossed it. But I needn’t have bothered. Everyone was too busy watching where the meatball landed to notice its origins.”  
          “Albus!!” Holly exclaimed suddenly. “Did you make him stumble all the time?”  
          “A very special jinx I developed,” Witch Umbridge purred while adding a lump of sugar to the cup. “Paige helped with that too. She used the Potter boy’s hair to cast the jinx and then scattered some jinxed hair dust on the flagstones of the Slytherin dorm every day. The Slytherins who stepped on the dust got the jinx and their bodies just naturally attracted Potter whenever he came near. Potter, of course, tried to keep away which resulted in all sorts of amusing mishaps… The jinx lost its effect with actual contact and wore off by the end of the day; no one was the wiser!”  
          “What about the owl? Did you clip its feathers?”  
          “I had some time to kill,” the witch admitted innocently while stirring her tea. “Originally, I planned to shave the Potter girl’s cat but the owl was much easier to get to…”  
          “How could you?” Holly demanded.  
          “Easily the owl was quite tame.  The Potter boy really should teach it to be more wary of strangers.”  
          “Not just the owl!” sputtered Holly. “Everything! Why?”  
          “To keep you off balance, of course,” replied Witch Umbridge smiling as she set her cup down across from Holly.  
          “Me?” gasped Holly in disbelief.  
          “Yes. You see we all knew you were an Empath that could feel the child in a grasshopper and find a plane of Muggles, but what else? I had no idea the extent of your abilities. There was precious little information available. You’d think you’d give an interview or two on the subject but I suppose Potter wouldn’t let you and I couldn’t afford to have you sense an extra set of emotions where there shouldn’t be. Fanning the flames of the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry kept emotions so highly charged around you that I knew you would be forced to block at all times.  
          “But why Albus?”  
          “Potter was a perfect target,” explained Witch Umbridge cheerfully as she settled into the chair in front of Holly. “He was a third year who shared most of your classes and had already made a fool of himself by claiming to see thestrals. It made sense to make the boy appear even more foolish. Besides, as a relative, however distant, you’d worry about what happened to him and that would keep your mind off other things...  
          “It was you!” Holly exclaimed with sudden horror. “You made the stadium collapse!”  
          “So,” replied Witch Umbridge in an unconcerned voice.  
          “How could you?!!!”  
          “Now, now, no need to get so worked up,” said Witch Umbridge in a conciliatory voice. “It’s not like anyone was killed… You must look at the larger picture. I needed an uninterrupted time to get into the places I hadn’t yet been able to search. Why don’t you have some tea, dear,” she suggested sweetly. “Everything is so much more civilized with a cup of tea.”  
          “But framing Albus?”  
          “Oh, he was just in the right place at the right time,” replied Witch Umbridge without concern. “Totally a last minute impulse, but not a disagreeable one.”  
          “How could you do that to Albus?” demanded Holly outraged.  
          “That was easiest of all,” replied Witch Umbridge with a girlish giggle. “I just looked into his eyes and thought _Harry Potter!_ ” The smile vanished and the witch practically spit out Cousin Harry’s name. Her wide bulging eyes stared at Holly coldly and she added, “Harry Potter was the most undisciplined, disrespectful, unruly student I’ve ever met! He was so full of himself that he thought the world revolved around his every thought. He should have been kicked out of school the first time he broke the rules but everyone else thought he was too _special_ to expel!”  
          Holly stared, stunned by the absolute hatred that radiated from Witch Umbridge. She didn’t need to be an Empath to feel its intensity.  
          “I must admit it was rather satisfying to watch you and the other Potter brats walk around with such worried looks upon your faces,” the witch added with a smile. “I was rather disappointed the boy wasn’t thrown out of Hogwarts immediately with all that evidence against him, but you can't have everything. No doubt Potter’s friendship with McGonagall prevailed in the matter. ”  
          “You would have let Albus get suspended for something you did?” questioned Holly in disbelief.  
          “Of course,” said the witch unconcernedly. “I keep telling you to look at the bigger picture. A worried father trying to do all he could to clear his son’s name would surely have no time to be a proper guardian for a cousin he barely knew. And by then I was fairly certain you and I would have to have a conversation of some sort… Speaking of which, did you have something to do with the official clearance of the Potter boy’s name?” she paused and looked at Holly expectantly before continuing. “Paige feels certain it had to do with the exam the third years were asked to begin but not finish. I never got around to asking Fitzpatrick.  
          You aren’t drinking!” the witch suddenly noted with concern. “That’s not very polite of you!” she chided with a girlish giggle. “How can we have a civilized conversation if you don’t drink your tea. You must have some tea! I prepared it especially for you!” Witch Umbridge lifted her cup and took sip. The many rings on her fat fingers glittered and sparkled like ice as she watched intently waiting for Holly to do the same.  
          “No thank you,” replied Holly automatically. She was still trying to comprehend a person so cold and calculating. Lord Voldemort was evil! His very person radiated evil. But Witch Umbridge, was, was, Holly was at a loss for words to describe her.  
          “Drink,” ordered the witch more firmly.  
          “No!” replied Holly with equal firmness.  
          “Drink!” Witch Umbridge ordered again in a voice so cold it chilled Holly to the very bone, “or I will lift my wand and make you drink the whole pot of tea and don’t think I won’t! Your eyes are the same color as _his!_ ”  
          Holly looked up into Witch Umbridge’s face and saw only coldness in those bulging wide eyes. She had no doubt Witch Umbridge would do as she threatened. With trembling fingers Holly lifted the cup and took a sip. The tea was cold and horribly sweet. It didn’t taste quite right either.  
          “Drink it all!” Witch Umbridge ordered, her voice again girlish sweet and cheerful.  
          “You put something in this,” said Holly suspiciously after she took another sip.  
          “Of course I did,” agreed Witch Umbridge with a giggle, “but nothing harmful,” she assured Holly. “I want to _talk_ with you not kill you. Keep drinking dear,” she ordered sternly. _“Now!”_ and the voice turned stern, cold and threatening.  
          Holly fearfully lifted the cup to her lips and took another sip. “Wh-what’s in it?” asked Holly staring apprehensively at the milky tea still in the cup.  
          “Oh, just a little something for that headache of yours,” replied the witch cheerfully. “I want you to be thinking clearly for our little conversation. Finish the cup, dear, and no dribbling, either, I’m watching!”  
          Her head did seem to throb less. Holly closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and drank the rest of the tea in the cup. Then she set the cup shakily back down on the saucer causing it to clatter loudly.  
          “That’s a good girl,” said Witch Umbridge approvingly as she noted the empty cup. She leaned back in her chair, took a sip from her cup and then cleared her throat _(hem, hem.)_ “Does your head feel better?” Holly didn’t trust herself to respond. The headache was gone but she felt weird all over, curiously light-headed. “Would you like some more tea?”  
          “No,” Holly replied dully. She felt helpless and thoroughly defeated. “There was something else in there too, wasn’t there,” she accused.  
          “Of course,” agreed Witch Umbridge cheerfully. “I put in some Veritaserum too,” she told Holly. “It’s not like I can sense emotions. This way I won’t have to. It’ll save us so much time if I know your answers are honest in the first place. Don’t you agree?”  
          “No,” replied Holly automatically, “I don’t know,” she added suddenly almost as if she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth.  
          “That’s better,” said Witch Umbridge approvingly. “We can’t know what will save time when we don’t yet know what we are doing can we?”  
          “No,” replied Holly. Her answer came easily without effort.  
          “Shall we start with something simple?” began the witch taking another sip of tea. “Have you left the _Room of Doom_ two times?”  
          “Yes,” said Holly though she had intended to say, “None of your business!” It was as if she couldn’t stop the words from coming.  
          “Very good,” purred the Witch. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? But then I knew that had to be case,” she added without waiting for an answer. “Why else would Trelawney have given a second prophecy if the first hadn’t already been completed?”  
          “First?” blurted Holly, “What first?”  
          “Ah, yes, the first,” mused Witch Umbridge happily and she gave a girlish giggle. “I got it years ago—long before I even realized it’s importance. I had no idea Trelawney could make predictions that actually came true! How did it go?” she asked herself. “Oh yes,

 _The final drops of elixir have been drunk; the means to make more will be hidden by the one with the blackened hand_.

          I thought it was total hogwash at the time,” the witch told Holly as an aside. “Dumbledore didn’t appear with a crippled _black_ hand until a year later and when cousin Liza told me how she helped Mrs. Flamel pack her husband’s things and to whom she sent them, I realized just what the _means_ must be,” the witch paused to take a sip of tea and then added informatively. “I wasn’t really surprised when I learned the Flamel papers were not listed in Dumbledore’s effect after he died… By then, I realized it was a matter of waiting for the _one both early and late_ … _”_  
          “Huh?”  
          “You!” Witch Umbridge said jubilantly. “You see, the rest of the prophecy goes,

_The means will be revealed to those who know not, after the one … both early and late … escapes the Room of Doom for the second time…”_

          That’s where you come in,” she added with a smile looking directly at Holly with her wide eyes. “ _You’re_ the one both early and late! Not only that, _you’ve_ escaped the _Room of Doom_ for a _second_ time. And now you and I must find the _means_ before this Keeper hides it forever… In fact, you may have already seen what I am looking for and just didn’t realize the importance of what you saw… Have you seen a stack of papers or several boxes of papers or some packets all stacked together perhaps with the name “Flamel” on them?”  
          “What are you talking about?” demanded Holly in frustration. “What _means?_ ”  
          “The means to make more elixir, of course,” replied Witch Umbridge impatiently.  
          “Elixir?”  
          “The Elixir of Life,” replied the witch more patiently. “You Mudbloods know nothing, do you?” she added with disgust. “Nicholas Flamel made a Philosopher’s Stone that could create the Elixir of Life,” she said explaining. “Dumbledore foolishly convinced Flamel to destroy the stone, but clearly Flamel _didn’t_ destroy his notes—the _means_ to make another Philosopher’s Stone, thus more elixir!”  
          Holly leaned back in her chair. “An Elixir of Life,” she questioned in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?”  
          “Yes,” said Witch Umbridge with satisfaction. “Nicholas Flamel lived over 600 years and would still be alive today if he hadn’t destroyed that stone. With an elixir like that I would be set for life! For an eternity! Think of what wizards would pay for a sip!”  
          “Untold riches!” whispered Holly echoing the words of the prophecy and imagining the potential value of the elixir.  
          “Exactly,” agreed Witch Umbridge. “And now you know why it is so important that I find those papers. Would you like some more tea?” she asked conversationally. “No?” she answered when Holly stared dumbly at her. “No matter,” she added without concern and witch poured herself a second cup of tea. She dropped a lump of sugar into the cup and stirred the tea with her spoon before continuing. “The key to finding the papers, I think, is this _Room of Doom_ ,” she said thoughtfully. “The papers were hidden before you entered this room and revealed afterward. Something must have happened in there to break the enchantment. So,” she asked in a business like tone after setting down the spoon. “Tell me about this room.”  
          With an effort, Holly clamped her mouth shut. She had no intention of helping Witch Umbridge and certainly did not want to talk about the Tom Riddle room.  
          The witch frowned at Holly’s response. “When did you leave the _Room of Doom_ the second time?” she asked instead.  
          “June,” replied Holly. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to say anything at all, but it was such a tiny word that it just sort of slipped out of her mouth.  
          “Yes, of course, the hospital,” replied Witch Umbridge smoothly. “What was in the room?” she asked suddenly.  
          “A-a chair.”  
          “Any papers?”   
          “N-no.”  
          “Are you sure?”  
          “I think so; it was dark,” Holly added almost without thought. She didn’t want to tell Witch Umbridge anything, but the words kept coming out…  
          “So maybe there was something you overlooked. Where is this room?”  
          “Gone,” replied Holly with finality. “It collapsed,” she added helpfully.  It surely didn't matter if Witch Umbridge knew that.  
          Witch Umbridge frowned thoughtfully. “So they can’t be in there. I know that because we still have time to find the papers. Perhaps it is something you brought from the room… Did you take anything out of the room?”  
          “Yes, my brother!” snapped Holly. “He was trapped in there and I had to free him! This is ridiculous!” she continued quickly. “I haven’t seen any papers!” But Holly suddenly had a sinking sensation that she knew exactly what Witch Umbridge was seeking and it wasn’t paper.  
          “But of course you have,” disagreed the witch sweetly. “You just don’t know it. Let’s try again,” she persisted. “Your brother is not a “thing!” Did you leave the room with any _thing_ that you did not have when you entered?”  
          “No.” That was honest enough. But there were other things, things Holly had gotten _before_ she had entered the room. Things she hadn’t had when Vernon touched the plaque. Holly could only hope the witch didn’t ask the right questions…  
           Witch Umbridge took another sip of tea and studied Holly thoughtfully. Perhaps there had been a difference in Holly’s voice or the answer had come too quickly. “Are you hiding something from me?”  
          Holly clamped her jaws shut.  
          “Answer me!” the witch demanded suddenly pounding on the table.  
          Startled, Holly jumped in her seat. Her mouth flew open. “Yes,” she blurted.  
          Witch Umbridge smiled with satisfaction. “What are you hiding?” she questioned intently.  
          “A key,” came out. The answer just seemed to slip out without her meaning to.  
          “A key!” purred Witch Umbridge immediately interested. “To what?”  
          Holly closed her eyes tight and again tried to keep her mouth closed.  
          “Come on, dear,” persisted Witch Umbridge in a sweeter tone. “What does the key go to?”  
          “Gringotts.” The word seemed to tumble out of it’s own accord.   
          “You have a key to a vault in Gringotts?”  
          “Yes,” replied Holly miserably. Tears flooded from her eyes.  
          “Very good, dear,” said Witch Umbridge soothingly. “Whose key is it?”  
          “Mine!” insisted Holly quickly.  
           Witch Umbridge frowned at the response. “Whose key _was_ it?”  
          “Dumbledore’s,” whispered Holly unable to contain herself.  
          “Dumbledore!” said Witch Umbridge jubilantly. “Now how did you come by a key of Dumbledore?” she mused thoughtfully.  
          “Mrs. Figg gave it to me,” came the prompt response. The more Holly talked, the harder it seemed to stop.  
          “That old bat!” said Witch Umbridge scornfully. “Why would she have a key of Dumbledore’s? Don’t bother answering that,” the witch added quickly. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that _you_ have a key of Dumbledore’s. You still do, don’t you”  
          “Yes,” whispered Holly, her eyes still tightly closed.  
          “Excellent. And you brought it out of the _Room of Doom?_ ”  
          "Yes.”  
          “I wonder how that happened?” she mused. “But we can save that question for another time. I presume you went into the vault?”  
          “Yes—but there’s nothing in it, I swear,” Holly insisted quickly, “nothing but a dusty old book with empty pages…” Holly added without meaning to...  
          “But that’s exactly how Dumbledore would hide something of importance,” replied Witch Umbridge sweetly. “Disguise it, make it look insignificant and then hide it again. That explains how it was “revealed to those who know not,” you and Potter. What happened to the book?”  
          Holly shut her eyes tight and shook her head.  
          “Answer me!” the witch ordered.  
          “It’s still there,” replied Holly reluctantly.  
          “You didn’t take it with you?” Witch Umbridge questioned in disbelief.  
          “No. C-Cousin Harry said it might be dangerous.”  
          “Of course he would, Potter has no imagination. No matter. Where is the key?”  
          Holly dipped her head and held her hands over her mouth.  
          “Miss Wycliff?” Witch Umbridge added sternly, her voice cold and hard again. Holly felt cold fingers grasp her wrists and pull her hands from her face. Holly tucked her head lower and struggled but her hands were slowly forced onto the table! Witch Umbridge planted the heels of her hands on top of Holly’s hands pinning them in place and leaned forward. “Miss Wycliff?” Witch Umbridge repeated forcefully as her whole weight dug painfully on Holly’s hands. “Answer me!” she commanded. Witch Umbridge’s head was right over Holly; she was so close that Holly felt a cold breeze from the witch’s breath as she spoke.  
          Holly shivered. “I-I have it,” she finally whispered.  
          “You do?” questioned Witch Umbridge again cheerful.  
          The pressure on Holly’s hands suddenly vanished. Holly rapidly took them off the table and placed them on her lap under the table.  
          “With you?”  
          “Y-yes,” Holly admitted reluctantly.  
          “How convenient!” purred Witch Umbridge. “Give it to me!” she ordered abruptly.  
          Holly hunched down, tucked her head under her arms making herself into a ball as much as possible. “No!” she mumbled from under her arms.  
          “Give me your key!” the witch ordered again.  
          As if they had a life of their own, Holly felt her hands release her shoulders and go up to her neck. “No,” she moaned keeping her head tucked down. “No, no, no!” But Holly’s fingers didn’t stop. They steadily lifted the chameleon chain from her neck drawing with it her Gringots’ key.  
          “That’s the way,” encouraged Witch Umbridge sweetly.  
          “Don’t,” Holly pleaded softly as her hands drew both chain and key up over her head.  
          “You can let go now,” the witch told Holly and Holly’s fingers obeyed releasing the chain into the waiting hands of Witch Umbridge.  
          Abruptly Holly’s hands fell limply to her side. She immediately used them to hide her head and hug her body again.  
          “Thank you,” said Witch Umbridge with a pleased voice. “Now, what is the vault number?” Holly locked her jaws shut. “Come on, Miss Wycliff,” urged Witch Umbridge in a honeyed voice. “You can do it, tell me the vault number…” With great difficulty, Holly managed to keep silent. Witch Umbridge frowned. “Miss Wycliff,” she began sternly. “Must I use a stronger spell to get this information out of you? I will, you know. And in the end, you’ll tell me what I want to hear. It’ll only hurt you a teensy bit more if I do it that way. But it’s your choice.” Her voice turned hard and cold as she spoke, “Tell me the number to Dumbledore’s vault!” she commanded.  
          Holly gulped. There was no pity in that voice. Holly knew for certain she would do as she threatened. “O-one …” Holly began tentatively.  
          “Yes,” Witch Umbridge said encouragingly. “That’s it, come on,” she urged.  
          “T-two …”  
          “Two…”  
          “Th-three—"  
          “Dumbledore’s vault is number 123?”  
          “Yes,” Holly whispered from under her arms.  
          "Very good. Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?”  
          “N-no.”  
          “Then I believe our business has concluded,” Witch Umbridge said cheerfully. “Thank you so much for your help.” Holly heard the sound of the chair scraping back as Witch Umbridge rose from her seat.  
          “W-what now?” asked Holly fearfully from beneath her arms.  
          “I have a book to fetch,” said Witch Umbridge in a confident voice as she collected the teacups and saucers.  
          “Wh-what about me?”  
          “I imagine you'll go back to the Infirmary,” came the reply. Holly heard the clattering sound of the cups and saucers being placed on the tea tray.  
          Holly looked up. “You’re letting me go?” she asked in disbelief.  
          “Of course!” replied Witch Umbridge. “I have no more need for you.” She hesitated. “Did you think I would kill you?” she asked while staring at Holly with her wide bulging eyes.  
          “Y-yes,” Holly mumbled unable to stop the words from coming out of her mouth.  
          “Nonsense,” replied the witch briskly as she lifted the tray. “Wizards get mad when a wizard gets killed. Madder still when one of their children die—so mad they won’t forgive or forget…” Witch Umbridge paused to take a breath. She smiled and cleared her throat before continuing. “Now, a simple abduction for a few hours, that is more easily … overlooked...” The witch giggled happily and left the room with her tray leaving Holly to stare blankly at the many round ornamental plates that covered the pink and gray walls of the room. A picture of a tiny kitten was on each black-rimmed plate. Some of the kittens were black in colour; others were smoky gray. Each kitten had a fat pink and black bow around its neck and looked cutely out at Holly while meowing softly.   
          Witch Umbridge returned moments later with her hands empty but behind her walked Paige carrying a silver tray filled with potion bottles and jars. Paige still wore a nightgown, but her black hair was now brushed neatly behind her back. It shone as she moved and not a strand looked tangled or out of place. Her black eyes stared straight ahead. Paige’s face was unfathomable but her emotions were warm, fuzzy and happy!  
          “Paige has been of immense assistance in my little project,” purred Witch Umbridge noting Holly’s eyes on Paige. “She’s an absolute genus!” the witch added proudly. “Did you realize that the _Imperious Curse_ is infinitely easier to cast when the subject has first taken a dose of Serenity—that potion Paige developed last year? I’m not sure, mind you,” Witch Umbridge added in a confidential voice, “but I think taking Serenity regularly makes the curse more difficult if not impossible to shake off too! I had Mr. Borage immediately pull the Serenity recipe from his new potions book as too dangerous to release to the general public. He replaced it with a dreamless sleeping potion Paige also developed. I think a dreamless sleep provides serenity too, don’t you? Set the tray down here, dear,” she ordered Paige. Paige immediately complied setting the tray of potion bottles quietly down on the side table.  
          “When Paige told me about seeing a cursed plaque in class that supposedly nearly killed two students the year before,” continued Witch Umbridge, “I was more than interested. She couldn’t say for sure, but I was certain that the plaque had somehow led to the _Room of Doom_ and _you_ were one of the children that had nearly died.”  
          “Then, when your father pulled you out of Hogwarts last summer, I was sure it was because you must have had one brush with death too many for him—most likely a _second_ escape from the _Room of Doom_... So I began my plans to search Hogwarts for the Flamel papers,” the witch explained with a smile. “I considered cancelling them altogether when your name was later added to the roster,” Witch Umbridge continued. “While I was reasonably certain you wouldn’t sense my emotions and thus wouldn’t notice me while under a disillusionment charm, I suspected, and correctly so, it seems,” the witch added while peering down at Holly with those bulging eyes, “you might notice a difference in Paige’s emotions while at Hogwarts. In the end,” she continued, “I decided the visit was worth the risk. And it was! I wouldn’t have known for sure I was looking in the wrong place otherwise!”   
          “What’s all that?” asked Holly worriedly staring at the potion bottles on the tray Paige held.  
          “Oh, just a little something to help you sleep,” the witch replied happily.  
          “For how long?” asked Holly remembering how Becky, Mark and Professor Lovegood were still fast asleep when she had left the infirmary.  
          “Just long enough for me to safely get away from Hogwarts,” answered Witch Umbridge cheerfully. “As I said before,” she continued conversationally, “Paige is really quite a genius when it comes to potions. Some wizards don’t like to work with potions. They think the results aren’t precise enough for their purposes. But Paige could show them a thing or two. Eight hours should do,” she told Paige.  
          "For her?” questioned Paige emotionlessly while staring directly at Holly. Her black eyes seemed to pierce right through Holly.  
          “Yes.”  
          Paige picked up a small lilac colored potion bottle, uncorked it and carefully poured some of its contents into a small green spoon. “Colorless, odorless, dreamless,” purred Witch Umbridge with a smile as Paige worked. “The perfect sleep potion, wouldn’t you agree?”  
          Paige poured the contents of the spoon into a small glass beaker. Then she filled the spoon a second time and emptied it into the beaker. After setting the spoon down on the tray, Paige reached a slender white hand over to Holly’s face. Not knowing what to expect, Holly leaned her head back as far as she could against the back of the chair and stared at Paige’s black eyes with apprehension. Without hesitation, Paige grasped a lock of Holly’s hair. Her fingers separated a single strand and gave a sharp tug plucking it out. Paige then dropped the hair into the beaker. It floated lightly on the surface of the potion. Then Paige picked up one of the small jars. After opening it, she reached into the jar, withdrew her fingers and then sprinkled something into the beaker. There was an instant flare and explosion.  
          “Wh-what’s that?” asked Holly as Paige picked up the beaker and studied the liquid within. The contents of the beaker had turned black.  
          “Just a little something to fix the time,” replied Witch Umbridge without concern. Paige picked up a different jar and opened it. She dipped a tiny spoon into the jar and withdrew a small mound of something yellow. Then she emptied the contents of the spoon into the beaker and stirred it around. Holly heard a faint hiss from the beaker. Paige picked up the beaker and studied the contents within. It didn’t look as dark as before. Paige gently swirled the potion and the colour faded to a watery gray. Paige held the beaker to the light again. “It’s ready,” she announced calmly and set the beaker back down on the tray.  
          “Excellent,” smiled Witch Umbridge as Paige carefully closed the jar. Then the witch picked up a tiny clear bottle from the tray that held something shimmery and pale white inside. “Five hours should be enough,” she told Paige while handing her the bottle.  
          “What’s that?” asked Holly worriedly.  
          _“Oblitus,”_ replied Witch Umbridge informatively.  
          “T-that’s a-a mem—”  
          “Memory potion?” finished Witch Umbridge. “Yes.”  
          “You’re going to take my memories away?” Holly asked apprehensively as Paige uncorked the bottle. Paige picked up a small green spoon from the tray.  
          “Only five hours,” replied Witch Umbridge calmly. “You should be glad it is Paige doing this. _Oblitus_ is a very fickle potion if not handled properly. Its effects are permanent and tend to be rather unpredictable when the potion gets old or if it’s not stored at the proper temperature. But Paige always takes very good care of her potions, don’t you, my dear?”  
          “Yes,” agreed Paige in a toneless voice. Paige inserted an eye-dropper into the bottle. She removed the eye-dropper from the bottle and began carefully dropping a pearly looking substance into the spoon.  
          “But I don’t want to loose my memories!” protested Holly.  
          “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter,” informed Witch Umbridge coldly. “As much as I have enjoyed our little conversation, I have a stone to make. I can’t concentrate on that if I must be continually looking over my shoulder for those intent on sending me to Azkaban Prison!”  
          “Ready,” Paige said without emotion holding the spoon upright.  
          “Thank you,” purred Witch Umbridge looking down at the spoon. Then she looked from the spoon to the contents of the beaker. “Oh, that doesn’t look like much does it?” she commented to no one in particular. “It should all fit in one of the larger spoons! Could we do that?” she inquired of Paige.  
          “Potion interaction before consumption could cause an increase in sleep by 30 minutes and a 10% random memory loss in addition to the 5 hours specified.”  
          “Thirty minutes more? That’s acceptable,” murmured Witch Umbridge cheerfully.  
          “Ten percent random memory loss!” interjected Holly worriedly. “What does that mean?”  
          “Oh I think that was rather clearly stated,” replied Witch Umbridge thoughtfully. “You may loose some more memories. That’s all. But only 10% more. That’s not too bad a loss considering the alternative of trying to force a potion down the throat of someone who is soundly asleep… Of course, we could give you the _Oblitus_ first, but _Oblitus_ erases the past not the present so we run the risk of you remembering someone giving you the sleeping potion… It’s a fairly small risk, but still a risk. Better to be safe than sorry, I think.”  
          “No!” protested Holly vehemently. “You can’t do this to me! I need my memories, all of them!”  
          “Nonsense,” replied Witch Umbridge. “Your memories aren’t that important. You haven’t lived long enough to have important memories. Besides, it’s not like you’ll miss what you don’t remember… Combine the potions!” she commanded Paige.  
          “Please!” Holly begged while Paige poured the contents of the smaller spoon into the beaker. “What if I forget how to block?” Holly added desperately. She heard a sizzling hiss and a purple vapor instantly rose from the beaker. The contents of the beaker changed to a dark maroon color.  
          Witch Umbridge shrugged, unconcerned. “You would have to forget every single instance in which you have blocked to truly forget how to block. I think that highly unlikely. But if it does happen, I’m sure you can learn to block again. You’re young…”  
          “No!” protested Holly. “I want my memories, I _need_ my memories. Don’t take them from me! If you make me forget, I may forget everything!” Holly attempted to explain. “I can’t bear to loose everything. I’ve got to have my memories; I _need_ them! Please!” Paige drew out a fairly large spoon and poured the contents of the beaker into it.  
          “Oh, well,” said Witch Umbridge with false sympathy. “I’m afraid it can’t be helped. Besides,” she added with a girlish giggle, “it’s time you learned that not even _Potters_ can get everything they want!” Witch Umbridge’s eyes suddenly grew hard and cold and she added, “Pity you won’t remember the lesson!” Paige bent over Holly with the potion filled spoon in her hand…  
          “NO!” exclaimed Holly suddenly. She pushed hard against the table shoving it into Paige knocking herself and the chair she sat in to the floor upending the table in the process. Paige fell on top of the table; the potion spoon dropped from Paige’s hand and slid across the floor out of reach.  
         After that, try as she might, Holly could do no more; the heavy chair hadn’t broken. Like a turtle on its back, Holly was still tied to the firmly to the chair and unable to get up or away. Not knowing what else to do, Holly kicked out wildly with her feet to keep Witch Umbridge away.  
          “Tisk, tisk,” said Witch Umbridge in a scolding voice but not sounding seriously upset. “No need to get so worked up. You might hurt yourself.” Holly looked up to see Witch Umbridge standing overhead well away from her kicking feet. Paige stood calmly next to her. The witch smiled widely showing her pointy teeth as she held her wand out. “After all,” she added happily, “soon you won’t even know why you were so upset.” Witch Umbridge giggled girlishly and aimed her wand. Holly saw an end of the dark pink sash snake up from her waist and towards her arms. Despite her best efforts to prevent it, the sash proceeded to wrap itself around Holly’s wrist and pulled it to the armrest tying it securely to the chair. Then the sash grew even longer and moved to Holly’s other wrist tying it to the chair as well. Finally, the sash moved down to Holly’s flailing feet and tied them tightly to the legs of the chair. Holly could no longer move!  
          Holly frantically tried to escape but couldn’t. The sash held her too tightly. When Holly finally stopped struggling, she saw Witch Umbridge still standing calmly over her, watching and waiting. The witch wore this horrible smile on her face and had not bothered to move a step while Holly had struggled. “I _hate_ you!” Holly told Witch Umbridge with tears streaming from her eyes.  
          “Temper, temper,” chided Witch Umbridge with a girlish giggle. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I’m afraid you won’t remember that either. Why don’t you help Miss Wycliff sit upright again,” ordered Witch Umbridge sweetly. Without a word Paige bent down and lifted the heavy chair back up. “Set it against the wall so she can’t “accidentally” fall again,” instructed the Witch and Paige moved the chair back against the wall. Holly shook her body as best she could but the chair would not move.  
          “Shall we try again with the potion?” the witch suggested cheerfully. Paige picked up the spoon with the potions. Despite the fall, none of the potion had spilled out of the spoon. “Another development of Paige’s,” said Witch Umbridge proudly noting Holly’s eyes on the spoon. “A potions spoon that won’t spill its contents until ordered. Rather ingenious, don’t you think? ”  
          “No,” responded Holly automatically as she fixed her eyes on the spoon. “Please no!” Holly begged as Paige and spoon moved closer. Holding the spoon in one hand, Paige bent next to Holly. “NO!” Holly cried again desperately while trying futility to escape the chair but the sash held her fast. Holly clamped her mouth shut and twisted her head away from Paige. She found herself almost nose to nose with a green eyed black kitten on the decorative plate. It had a light gray spot on its chest and mewed softly while it daintily batted a small gray ball back and forth oblivious of Holly.  
          “No need to be afraid,” said Witch Umbridge reassuringly and Holly shivered when she felt the cool touch of the witch's fat fingers on her face. Witch Umbridge gently brushed some strands of hair from Holly's face and eyes as she added with a girlish giggle, “It’s for your own good.” Then the witch placed her cold hand firmly on Holly’s forehead. Her fingers dug into Holly's forehead as she forcibly twisted Holly’s head towards Paige while holding it firmly against the chair. “Truly it is…" she assured Holly sweetly while she held Holly’s struggling head still. And to Paige Witch Umbridge ordered coldly, "Make sure the spoon goes to the back of her throat so she can’t spit anything out! And I promise,” the witch added as she bent down so her head was next to Holly's, “no matter what you may think now," she whispered, "you won’t miss your memories…” The witch giggled again happily.  
          Paige placed the heel of her free hand on Holly’s jaw and pushed down. _“No!”_ Holly screamed in her mind while trying to keep her mouth closed. _“Don’t!”_ But Paige continued. Inevitably Holly’s jaws parted and Holly felt the spoon force its way between her lips and then her teeth. The large size seemed to fill her mouth. It pushed down on her tongue causing Holly to gag reflexively. The forward movement of the spoon continued relentlessly stopping only when it hit the back of her throat. Holly gagged again and fought for air. _“Please!”_ Holly begged in her mind, _“I want my memories; I **need** my memories!”_ Something icy cold slid down Holly’s throat and then, nothing.


	47. Chapter 47

          The sands in the hourglass fell steadily. Paige Crowley sat unmoving on the floor and watched them fall. She wore an avocado green traveling suit with shiny black knee high boots. Her long black hair was neatly brushed and gathered into a pony tail at the back of her neck. It was securely tied with an avocado green ribbon. A broom rested on the wall behind Paige. On one side of Paige was a carefully packed olive green knapsack. The sleeping form of Holly Wycliff lay on Paige’s other side. Holly’s wrists were tied tightly together with an avocado green ribbon, a match to the one in Paige’s hair. The ribbon cut deeply into Holly’s skin; her wrists were bloodied and red.  
           The hourglass was rather large, more of a day-glass, really. It was a meter tall and had an elaborately carved stand made of polished ebony. The base contained a high relief carving of the Hogwarts castle done in meticulous detail. The top contained a carving of a Quidditch match complete with players in full flight chasing after a snitch. Four elaborately carved pillars equally spaced around the glass separated the top from the base of the hourglass. Each pillar was of a different animal, an elongated lion rampart, a similarly elongated badger, an eagle, it’s wings stretched in flight and a snake twisting up a branch. Paige Crowley saw none of this. She only had eyes for the silvery grains of sand that fell through the glass.  
           The hours passed slowly but Paige never stirred from her position; her eyes never once wavered from the falling sands. She had been told to watch the sands and watch them she would.  
          The final grain of sand fell silently from the top to the silvery mound on the bottom. Paige blinked once. Then she reached into her knapsack and pulled out a large, square, very worn piece of parchment containing a very detailed map of Hogwarts. There were many tiny ink dots on the map moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing.  
          Paige studied the map patiently until a specific area was empty of tiny moving ink dots. Then she rolled the map up and put it back in her knapsack. Paige stood. She lifted the knapsack with one hand and put its strap over her shoulder. Then she took a firm hold of the broom. With her free hand, Paige pointed her wand at Holly. _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ she commanded. Holly’s sleeping form rose into the air and hovered next to Paige.  
          Paige turned to the wall and an opening appeared. Using her wand to direct, Paige caused Holly to float through the opening and then followed behind her. The two came out in a narrow corridor near the base of some stairs. An armored statue stood at attention in a niche across from the stairs. One arm carried a shield decorated with the Hogwarts heraldic design and the other arm extended upward with its metal glove holding a shining sword. Paige set Holly down in front of the statue. Studying the sleeping form, Paige pocketed her wand and knelt next to Holly. She turned Holly to her side, bent Holly’s legs into a more natural looking position and shifted Holly’s bound arms protectively over her head.  
          Reaching into her bag, Paige drew out a round glass ball about the size of an egg. She threw it next to Holly. It landed on the ground and shattered, the liquid within spilling onto the flagstone floor. Holly’s body seemed to shimmer and blend in with the flagstone.  
          Then Paige stood and backed away. She drew out her wand and pointed it at the statue. _“_ _Diffendo!”_ she shouted. The rivets holding the armor segments together broke and the statue collapsed. Shield, sword, helmet and metal pieces fell into a heap directly on Holly. Holly’s ankles and feet seemed to reappear and showed beneath the metal. Paige briefly studied the scene before her then she turned and proceeded to walk up the stairs.

********************

          The pressure on Holly Wycliff’s chest felt warm and heavy. Holly turned; the weight slid off, immediately snuggled against Holly’s arm and began to purr loudly.  
          “Holly? Holly?” inquired a worried voice. “Are you awake?”  
          Holly really didn’t want to wake up, but the overwhelming concern behind the question drove away the peaceful oblivion of sleep. “Yes,” mumbled Holly sleepily, “I suppose.”  
          “Oh, good!” exclaimed Becky with undisguised relief. “She’s awake Madam Pomfrey!” Becky announced excitedly. “How are you feeling?” Becky asked returning her attention to Holly.  
          “I’m feeling fine, of course,” replied Holly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then, as Holly looked around the room she asked, “Why am I in the infirmary?”  
          “Because you fell,” said Mark coming up to Holly.  
          “Or was pushed,” said Becky. “Probably pushed,” she added confidently. “I never trusted her! She was so creepy!”  
          “Who?”  
          “How are we?” interrupted Madam Pomfrey cheerfully coming up close to examine Holly.  
          “I’m fine,” replied Holly.  
          “And your wrists?”  
          “My wrists?” asked Holly in confusion. She held up her wrists and stared in disbelief at the neat bandages on them. “What happened to my wrists?” she asked.  
          “Paige happened!” replied Mark dryly.  
          “Paige!” said Holly in surprise. “What do you mean?”  
          “You left with Miss Crowley for the Headmistress’ office last night,” began Madam Pomfrey in explanation.  
          “I did?” wondered Holly.  
          “Yes,” put in Mark. And when we woke up, Madam Pomfrey sent word to the Headmistress to let you know.”  
          “But you never arrived!” put in Becky excitedly.  
          “And then we discovered you weren’t supposed to go there in the first place!” added Mark. “They had everybody out searching for you and Paige!” he continued. “Where were you?” he asked.  
          “I don’t know,” Holly answered worriedly. “I can’t remember!”  
          “How’s your head feel,” Madam Pomfrey asked promptly. “You had a rather nasty bump on the back of your head when we found you.”  
          “It feels fine!” Holly said impatiently. “I just can’t remember… What happened?”  
          “Well, early this morning,” continued Mark, “one of the Ravenclaws saw Paige flying away from the castle…”  
          “As soon a we heard that,” put in Becky eagerly, “a bunch of students got on their brooms and flew after her!”  
          “Then the professors flew after them!” added Mark.  
          “The rest of us waited outside to see what would happen next,” said Becky. “After a couple hours James and Albus came shooting back out of the woods like rockets! They flew straight into Hogwarts shouting, “Follow us!” So we did!” Becky continued breathlessly. “They went straight down the dungeon stairs and there you were! Under a suit of armor! We must have passed that spot a hundred times searching for you, but that was before the suit had collapsed! Michael said that the shards of glass we found next to you came from a disillusionment charm so that’s probably why we didn’t see you earlier!”  
          “We brought you straight up to the infirmary,” added Mark. “Eddie came by later to check on you and told us that Paige flew into the woods as soon as they drew near. They couldn’t get near as she wove in and out of the trees. When the professors arrived, Paige started shooting out stunning spells. She was so fast that several students got hit before they even knew what was happening! Fortunately, they were all flying near the ground so no one was seriously hurt when they fell off their brooms. Eddie said it took both Professor Lovegood and Professor Longbottom with the help of all the students still flying to catch Paige in a cross fire and finally bring her down! I had no idea she was so good!” Mark concluded.  
_“Of course, she’s good,”_ Holly thought to herself as she lifted her hands and looked at her wrists. _“She’s supposed to be an Auror student. How could she have done this?”_  
          “Eddie said they were taking her to Azkaban tomorrow!” Becky added.  
          “Why?” whispered Holly.  
          “Why?” repeated Mark. “For assault, battery, and kidnapping for starters!”  
          “Kidnapping?” echoed Holly wonderingly.  
          “Kidnapping!” confirmed Becky. “Paige took you away!” she reminded Holly bluntly. “And you were tied! It was so tight and bloody I couldn’t undo the knot; we had to cut your hands free. Don’t you remember?”  
          “No,” replied Holly blankly while staring at her wrists.  
          “What do you remember?” asked Madam Pomfrey briskly.  
          What did she remember? Holly closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. “We were at dinner,” she finally said after opening her eyes. “And I was going to ask you if you would go with me to the Memorial…”  
          Becky’s eyes grew wide. “But that was last night!” she whispered. And as she spoke, Holly felt an icy cold sensation form in the pit of her stomach. She was certain she had forgotten way too much for it to be a simple head injury!  
          “But I should remember all this,” protested Holly when Mark and Becky told her about dinner and their journey to the Memorial…  
          “There are other ways to loose one’s memory besides a bump to the head,” informed Madam Pomfrey. “Miss Crowley is very good with potions,” she reminded Holly. “She probably expected to make a clean getaway and no doubt gave you something so you wouldn’t reveal anything of significance should you happen to escape… You are very lucky indeed to be only missing a few hours if that is what happened,” she continued. “I know of some people whose minds were so muddled after a botched memory job they are now permanent residents in St. Mungos!”  
          But Holly was not comforted. She felt as if a piece of herself had been ripped out somehow. She felt even worse after Mark and Becky related how Holly apparently had thwarted a kidnapping attempt on the stairs and rescued them from within the Practice Room. “What do I do to get my memories back?” Holly asked anxiously.  
          “Well,” began Madam Pomfrey thoughtfully, “if it’s caused by a bump on the head, your memories should come back on their own, but there are a few remedies we can try.”  
          “And if it’s a potion?” persisted Holly.  
          “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with what others tell you,” she said sorrowfully. “Memory potions aren’t made to be reversible…”  
          _“No!”_ whispered Holly to herself hopelessly. Why had Paige done this to her? Why had she wanted her in the first place? “Wait a minute!” Holly said aloud. What makes you so sure it was Paige on the stairs?” After all whomever it was had supposedly looked like Professor Lovegood at one time.  
          “Easy!” replied Mark. “She had our wands!” Mark went on to explain how none of them, Holly included, had their wands when they were found. But after Paige was brought back, the Headmistress sent down all their wands. They were apparently found in Paige’s possession. Mark reached into a drawer of a small table next to the bed and pulled out two wands. “How did she know about your other one?” he asked as he handed them to Holly.  
          “She saw me use it once,” acknowledged Holly reluctantly feeling as she said so that her words only served to confirm Paige’s guilt in Mark and Becky’s minds. Holly took both wands in her hands hoping their touch would somehow bring back her memories. But nothing happened. Holly felt as lost as she had moments earlier when she first realized she couldn’t remember. She sighed and her fingers reached for the belt at her waist. Holly slid or tried to slide Lily’s wand into its usual place but something was blocking it—something that crinkled. Setting the wand aside, Holly’s exploring fingers felt something solid and round about as thick as a pencil.  
          “What’s that?” asked Becky curiously as Holly pulled out a tightly rolled piece of very thin parchment from within her wand case.  
          “I don’t know,” answered Holly equally curious.  
          “Why, its music!” exclaimed Becky peering over Holly’s shoulders after Holly unrolled the parchment. And indeed it was—tiny spidery notes on equally small lines. The title was written in cursive so flowery that it took a bit of effort for Holly to decipher the letters: _Memories._  
          “I didn’t know you could write music,” commented Mark.  
          “I can’t,” replied Holly promptly.  
          “But it says, it’s by you!” persisted Mark. His finger reached out and pointed to the letters beneath the title where the composer’s name belonged.  
          “Huh?” Holly looked again and squinted at the tiny spidery letters. Sure enough, though hard to read, it definitely said: _Holly Ann Wycliff_.  
          “But I didn’t write this,” insisted Holly. “I’ve never seen this before!”  
          “Perhaps it’s someone’s idea of a joke,” suggested Becky.  
          “I don’t think so,” said Holly thoughtfully. She tried to play the notes in her head but got nowhere. “Not many people know about this belt and besides, when could it have been done? I’m certain there was no scroll there before dinner…”  
          “Maybe that’s what you were doing for Paige,” suggested Mark.  
          “But I couldn’t write something like this in one night,” protested Holly staring at the many tiny notes on the scroll. “Even if I _could_ compose music!”  
          “Perhaps Paige did it…” contributed Becky. “After all, she’s good at a lot of things, maybe she’s good with music too!”  
          “But if Paige wanted this done,” countered Holly, “wouldn’t she have kept the music, not left it with me?”  
          “True,” agreed Mark thoughtfully. “That means this music was meant for only you, Holly. It was intended that you find it as soon as you got your wand back…”  
          “But why?” asked Becky.  
          “I think,” began Holly slowly, “that I should try to play this.”  
          “I think you should hand it over to the Headmistress,” put in Madam Pomfrey sternly. She had retreated to one side and was writing when Holly had discovered the parchment. No doubt she could not help overhearing their conversation… “Better yet, I’ll forward it to her along with my message that you have awakened… After all, who knows what enchantment that paper could hold.”  
          “I suppose,” agreed Holly reluctantly as she continued to stare at the paper, “but if I must,” she added, “I’d rather do it in person… What’s the password?”  
          “Tortoise shell,” replied Madam Pomfrey.  
          “Thank you,” Holly murmured. “May we go?”  
          “Yes, of course,” agreed Madam Pomfrey.  
          Holly quickly dressed and then the three left the infirmary. Once Holly got outside she started walking swiftly towards the Room of Requirement.  
          “You’re not going to the Headmistress, are you?” observed Mark as he hurried to keep up with her.  
          “No,” agreed Holly.  
          “But you heard Madam Pomfrey,” exclaimed Becky. “She says it could be dangerous!”  
          “I don’t think it is,” said Holly while not slowing, “but it’s important somehow and I really think I should play it,” she added firmly.  
          “Does it call to you?” questioned Mark.  
          “What?” Holly hesitated.  
          “Like the plaque?” Mark persisted.  
          Did it call? “Of course not!” Holly replied with certainty. “That was different.”  
          “Then prove it!”  
          “How?  
          “Give it to me!” Mark demanded.  
          “Huh?”  
          “You said you couldn’t help touching the plaque. Can you give up the scroll?”  
          Holly looked at the scroll she was holding so tightly. “Here,” she abruptly said handing it to Mark.  
          “Any urges to snatch it back?” asked Mark watching Holly carefully.  
          “No,” replied Holly. “But I still want to play the music.”  
          “That’s reassuring,” said Mark relaxing a bit but not returning the scroll, “but that doesn’t mean it’s “safe.” Come on!” Mark drew his wand with his free hand and swiftly set off in the opposite direction.  
          “What do you think you’re doing?” demanded Holly while hurrying after him. “I said I didn’t want to give it to the Headmistress!”  
          “I know,” he replied. “I’m taking it to Professor Lovegood. She should look at it before you play it. Playing this music without knowing what to expect is dangerous, Holly. We were all very lucky last night and I don’t want to take any chances...”  
          Holly sighed and raced after Mark and Becky. She knew no amount of persuasion would convince Mark to change his mind. Besides, he was probably right and as much as Holly wanted to play that music, she didn’t want to do it if it would harm her friends.

********************

           Professor Luna Lovegood blinked in surprise when she saw the three students standing at her office door. “Won’t you come in?” she said softly in greeting as she backed away from the door. The three students crowded in after her. “Have a seat,” Luna suggested indicating some chairs in her office. The three immediately each pulled up a chair and sat. “You seem to have recovered quite well, Miss Wycliff,” Luna commented as she sat in a fourth chair.  
          “Yes, ma’am, thank you,” replied Holly self-consciously.  
          “Might I ask how you knew it was not me on the stairs with you?”  
          “Um, I don’t really know,” confessed Holly uncomfortably.  
          “Oh,” said Luna calmly. “Do you remember anything of last night?”  
          “No,” Holly answered lowering her head in shame. “I can’t.”  
          The answer told Luna a lot. Becky, Mark and herself had no recollection of how they had gotten into the practice room. Holly had no memory of her previous night’s adventures either. The intruder had been very careful to cover his or her tracks—until the escape. That was sloppy and obvious—totally out of character with the intruder’s previous actions. Knowing that and despite evidence to the contrary, Luna was not convinced Paige was either solely or truly responsible.  
          “Perhaps you’ll remember later,” she told Holly serenely. “How may I help you?” Luna knew Becky and Mark had decided to remain in the infirmary until Holly awoke. Luna had specifically requested that Madam Pomfrey notify her immediately when Holly woke. That the three were at her door before such notification implied that Holly had not only recently woken up but the matter they wished to discuss with her probably had something to do with the previous night’s activities.  
          “We want you to look at this!” replied Mark bluntly. He held out a piece of rolled parchment that he had been holding tightly.  
          Luna took the scroll, unrolled it and looked at the notes on the page. “Music?” she questioned.  
          “Holly found it when she woke up,” Becky explained.  
          “Found it? Where?” questioned Luna.  
          Holly didn’t answer but instead kept her head tipped, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.  
          “It was in her wand case,” Mark answered for her. “You know, that belt where she usually keeps her _other_ wand!”  
          “On her?” queried Luna softly. Interesting. There had been no report of anything found with Holly except the ribbon that bound her wrists—Paige’s ribbon. Of course, Luna doubted anyone would have thought to check the belt at her waist…  
          “Yes,” confirmed Mark. “In a place where only _she_ would find it…”  
          “Holly wants to play it,” added Becky, “but we don’t want her to unless it’s safe…”  
          Luna immediately pulled out her wand and whispered some spells designed to reveal magical qualities of the paper, especially dark ones. Nothing happened. That didn’t mean it was safe—only the paper was, maybe.   
          “Despite what it says, I didn’t write it,” Holly informed Luna.  
           Luna reached into her desk and took out a quill. “Oh?” Luna murmured encouragingly while she placed a drop of ink on a blank corner of the page.  
           “Because I don’t know how to write music,” continued Holly, “and even if I did, it would have taken me way longer than a single night to compose something this complex… At least, I don’t think I did,” Holly added uncertainly acknowledging her memory loss.  
          The black spot vanished almost immediately. That meant the paper had been bewitched. That wasn’t necessarily bad. Composers often put a clean spell on their compositions to protect their work after completion.  
          “Does it bother you?” Luna asked conversationally as she put the quill away. “That you cannot remember?”  
          “Yes, of course it does!” Holly replied emphatically.  
          “But it was only for a few hours,” Luna stated as she drew out a match… “You may have been asleep the whole time…”  
          “Then why feed me a memory potion?” countered Holly. “My dad keeps saying it was only a _few hours_ last summer,” she continued, an obvious reference to the plaque, “but it was _three whole days_ for me! And I can remember it all as if it were yesterday! Maybe I did write it,” she added, “but I want to _remember_ doing it! And if I didn’t, then I want to know why my name is on that page!”  
          Luna lit the match.  
          “No!” whispered Holly staring in horror while Luna held the flame near the edge of the parchment. “Don’t!” Luna blew out the fire and Holly breathed a sigh of relief. Luna had seen what she needed. The paper had scorched and the scorch mark remained afterwards. The paper would burn and could be easily destroyed.  
          Luna then drew a slender recorder from her desk and played the first row of the music. The sounds were harsh and not pleasing to her ear. None of the students seemed to exhibit any unusual behavior at the sounds. That was reassuring. “Playing this music may not answer your questions,” she murmured softly while she studied the notes on the page.  
          “I know,” acknowledged Holly, “but it’s a clue of sorts and I have to check it out.”  
          “This is keyboard music!” Luna exclaimed suddenly.  
          “So?” replied Holly, unconcerned.  
          “Where did you intend to play this?” The clavichord Mr. Flitwick used for choir could not handle this large of range in notes!  
          “In the Room of Requirements,” Holly answered simply.  
          Luna raised an eyebrow of inquiry.  
          “There’s a big old pipe organ in there with two keyboards,” Becky added helpfully.  
          “There is?” Luna questioned softly.  
          “It was there when I, ah, wanted to learn selective blocking,” said Holly shyly. “I, uh, don’t know what learning to play an organ has to do with selective blocking,” she continued uncertainly, “but Cousin Harry suggested I keep up with it. He thought the music might help with my dreams—after the crash, you know,” she explained self-consciously. “And it has helped, a lot! When I could get in there,” Holly finished sorrowfully.  
          “Mmm,” said Luna sympathetically knowing how frequently Holly had tried to enter the Room of Requirement this year. She may still need the organ to help with her nightmares, but perhaps not for other reasons. Though Holly obviously didn’t realize it, her ability to selectively block had improved considerably over last year. Holly was so focused on defeating Ravindra with her braids and beads during their last practice session that she never noticed how Matthew and Sean had poked and prodded each other unmercifully while the two dueled. Of course, now they would have to work on Holly being aware of what was going around her during a duel…  
          “See here,” Holly rose to stand over Luna and pointed to some lettering and notations above the notes returning Luna’s thoughts to the parchment in her hand, “that’s directions on how to push and pull the stops. It’s not just keyboard music,” she pronounced, “but _organ_ music! I know I’m supposed to play this, I just _know_ it!”  
          “Indeed,” Luna murmured thoughtfully. One of the rooms they had been unable to search during their hunt for Holly and Paige was the Room of Requirement; it had been _occupied_ at the time. The room was now empty and gave no indication as to its prior usage… While the name under the title implied Holly had written the music, it could mean something entirely different...  
          “Your instincts have proven sound before, Miss Wycliff," Luna said decisively as she rolled up the scroll. “Perhaps you should follow them now, as well.” Luna handed the scroll to Holly.  
          “You mean that?” asked Holly eagerly as her eyes lit up. “I can play it?”  
          “Yes,” affirmed Luna, “but not alone!” she warned sternly. If Paige were not the sole culprit, as Luna suspected, then the halls of Hogwarts were not yet safe. “You are still under a medical directive,” Luna reminded Holly, “and it needs to be taken seriously.”  
          “Yes, ma’am, of course!” agreed Holly happily and her green eyes sparkled brightly. “You’ll both come with me won’t you?” she asked Becky and Mark anxiously.  
          Becky nodded readily.  
          “I suppose,” agreed Mark more reluctantly. “You sure it’s O.K.?” he asked Luna worriedly.  
          “I believe so,” she replied softly. “You’ll be in the Room of Requirement to play this,” Luna reminded them, “and the Room has always taken very good care of its guests…” whether they knew it or not.

********************

          Holly felt as if she were walking on a cloud as she practically skipped down the corridor on her way to the Room of Requirement. Without thinking she started up the steps… _“That’s it! You just keep those legs moving, Missy!”_ Holly froze at the sound.  
          “Pettigrew?” asked Mark.  
          “Yeah,” sighed Holly. “I guess my talk with him in the Memorial didn’t work.” Her mind swiftly weighed her desire to play the organ with her hatred of Pettigrew… The organ won. “I uh, really don’t want to go around,” she told her friends. “Think you could keep me going up?”  
          “Sure,” said Becky encouragingly and she took Holly’s elbow. The three students continued up the stairs…  
          “I sure wish I knew what I said to Pettigrew in the Memorial,” Holly said grimly when the voice in her head finally stopped talking.  
          “Why?” questioned Mark. “It obviously didn’t work.”  
          “I know,” agreed Holly, “but at least I’d know what _not_ to say again…”  
          “Again?” asked Becky.  
          “Again,” said Holly with resignation. “I know it probably won’t work, but I’ve got to do _something_ to get rid of Pettigrew and now I can’t check the Memorial off my list! Maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Perhaps I just didn’t say things the right way...”  
          Holly stopped abruptly. There it was, the wall! It seemed ages since she last visited the wall and the room beyond. Holly closed her eyes and instantly started pacing back and forth.  
          “Look!” whispered Becky interrupting Holly’s step. Holly opened her eyes and beheld the familiar small, plain wooden door with no ornamentation or decoration in the center of the wall. It was still blackened, and scorched and smelled of burnt wood. Never had anything smelled so sweet! Heedless of what her hands would look like afterwards, Holly swiftly reached out and turned the blackened doorknob. The door swung open creaking as it did, hanging precariously on its blackened burnt hinges. She stepped inside. Mark and Becky followed closing and locking the door behind them.  
          Holly smiled happily at the familiar sight of the huge double keyboard organ in the tiny room. Everything was still all blackened and scorched but Holly scarce gave that a thought as she eagerly walked to the bench.  
          “You should probably start with some warm-up exercises,” suggested Becky as she settled in her usual comfy chair. “After all, it’s been a while since you’ve played.”  
          “Probably,” agreed Holly as she sat down but she knew she wouldn’t. She wanted to play that piece too badly to stop for warm-ups first. Holly unrolled the parchment she held so tightly and placed it on the music stand. To her surprise, it flattened immediately against the stand not curling at all. Taking a deep breath, Holly set all the stops as the music indicated. “Ready?” she asked as she swiftly twisted her hair into a bun, pushed her wand inside and secured it all with a set of fuzzy peach-colored ear muffs.  
          “Ready,” replied Mark and Becky, their ear muffs also in place.  
          Holly started the pump. She placed her fingers on the keyboards and then stopped. “B-Becky?” she said in a quavering voice.  
          “Yes?”  
          “C-could you help me with something?”  
          “Certainly.” Becky rose from her seat and stood next to Holly. “What is it?”  
          Holly pointed to one of the notes on the page. “I know I’ve probably played this note hundreds of times, I _must_ have,” she began, “but, for some reason…”  
          “Yes?”  
          “What is it?”  
          “What is it?”  
          “Yes!” said Holly anxiously. “I can’t remember!”  
          “That’s middle C,” answered Becky calmly.  
          “It is?” questioned Holly worriedly.  
          “Yes. It’s here.” Becky reached out and pressed one of the yellow keys on the organ. The whole room reverberated with its sound. Holly stared at the key and then at the note on the page trying to memorize them. “Yes, of course,” she said. “And, um, this?” she pointed again at the paper.  
          “Andante,” replied Becky. “That means a moderately slow speed,” she added helpfully.  
          “Yes, I know that!” replied Holly impatiently. “But that letter?” she pointed on the page persistently.  
          “Which letter?”  
          “The third one! What’s its name?”  
          “D?”  
          “Yes!” exclaimed Holly with relief. “That’s it! “D!” Why couldn’t I remember?” she asked her friends anxiously.  
          “It just means you’ve forgotten more than we thought,” said Mark soothingly. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “Once we get back to the dorm we’ll sort it all out. It’ll be O.K. You’ll see.”  
          Holly nodded unconvinced. The worry in Mark’s emotions told her that he didn’t think this kind of memory loss was normal. What had Paige done to her? Why? Holly again placed her fingers on the keys. _“C,”_ she told herself and began to play…  
          Holly played slowly, hesitantly, as she constantly reminded herself what key to press whenever she saw the note that was “middle C.” As Holly continued her confidence improved and it seemed as if her hands moved of their own accord.  
          Finally Holly’s fingers stopped moving. The echoing sounds of music died away long before she realized the piece had ended. She sat frozen on the bench staring at the music in front of her.  
           “Is it over?” asked Mark after a while as he cautiously removed his earmuffs. His words sounded oddly loud in the silence. Holly didn’t answer. “I, uh, sure hope you didn’t write that piece,” he continued, “because then I’d have to think of something nice to say about it.”  
          “Mark!” said Becky reprovingly as she removed her own earmuffs. “You shouldn’t say such things.”  
          “Well? What did you think of it?” he demanded.  
          “Um, it was pretty bad,” Becky admitted.  
          “Ghastly would be a better description of it,” insisted Mark. “That or Holly got all the notes wrong and somehow I don’t think that happened.”  
          “No,” sighed Becky. “She didn’t. I was watching. Holly?” she asked. “What did you think? Holly?” she said again when Holly didn’t respond.  
          “Huh?” Holly twisted around on the bench to look at them. There was this blank look on her face.  
          “What did you think?” Becky asked again.  
          Holly stared at them in silence. “I think it was wonderful!” she said finally with her eyes shining brightly. “Simply wonderful!”  
          “Seriously?” asked Mark in disbelief. “Because it was really—”  
          “I remember!” Holly interrupted. “Everything!”  
          “What?”  
          “You do?” asked Becky in disbelief.  
          “Yes! I remember everything from the dinner where we discussed going to the Memorial to the time Paige shoved that awful potion into my mouth! Oh, Becky!” Holly exclaimed as she rose from the bench and gave Becky an excited hug. “I remember it all!” Holly let go. “I don’t remember this, though,” she admitted looking curiously at her neatly bandaged wrists. “It must have happened afterwards, when I was asleep.”  
          “But I don’t understand…” began Mark.  
           “I must have been in the Room of Requirement,” said Holly thoughtfully while she removed her earmuffs and set them on the bench. “Of course, I was! That’s where the intruder always stayed so why wouldn’t she have taken me there! But I never realized it at the time,” Holly added looking at her friends. “It looked so different! I knew they were going to take away my memories,” she continued. “I was really upset at the thought—I didn’t want to loose my memories, any of them—and the Room, this glorious Room,” she paused looking fondly around the tiny room with its puffy chair and huge imposing pipe organ, “found a way for me to get them back! The title,” Holly explained excitedly. “It’s not just any memories, it’s _my_ memories!”  
          With that, the parchment on the music stand burst into flame. “And I guess I don’t need the music any more,” Holly added soberly as she stared at the wisp of black smoke and a tiny pile of ash which was all that remained of the parchment.  
          “Come on!” she said decisively and headed for the door.  
          “Where?” asked Mark following behind.  
          “To see the Headmistress!” Holly unlocked and opened the door.  
          “Why?” asked Becky as Holly stepped outside.  
          “Because she’s innocent!” Holly exclaimed. “She didn’t do it!”  
          “Who?” asked Becky as she followed the two outside.  
          “Paige!”  
          “But you just said Paige gave you the memory potion!” persisted Mark in confusion pulling Holly to a halt just outside the door.  
          “She did!” agreed Holly. “But she didn’t mean to—at least I don’t think she did,” Holly added in reflection. Then, noting the totally confused emotions of both Mark and Becky, Holly said, “I’ll explain along the way.” And she raced down the corridor.


	48. Chapter 48

          Headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk reading the mail. She had received a lot of it recently. The mail started coming soon after it was discovered Holly was missing… Many parents of Hufflepuff students expressed concern for the safety of Holly and of their own children…  
          More mail arrived after the apprehension of Paige Crowley. It came from outraged parents across the campus wanting to know why the Hogwart’s staff hadn’t taken steps to contain this obviously crazed student before things got this far… And, if the staff had no knowledge Paige was this crazed, why not? There were suggestions of terminating the whole staff! Other letters openly asked Minerva resign to avoid the indignity of being removed from her position…  
          Around noon, Minerva received a third series of letters—mostly from the Ministry of Magic. Somewhere, someone had revealed that Paige was an Auror candidate. The writers demanded to know how someone “approved” to be an Auror could have done these terrible things! How had the Auror screening program missed such aberrations? Were there others out there like Paige? Many letters suggested the whole Auror training program be removed from Hogwarts and placed under the Ministry as it was clearly more capable of weeding out incompetent applicants. And, of course, more writers bluntly demanded Minerva step down from the position of Headmistress.  
          The knock on the office door came as a welcome break. Minerva put down the letter she had been reading, rose from her seat and opened the door. Three students stood on the other side. “Miss Wycliff, Mr. Smith, Mr. Owens,” greeted Minerva pleasantly. “Come in,” she suggested backing away to let them enter. “How may I help you?”  
          “She didn’t do it!” exclaimed Holly breathlessly as they entered the room.  
          “Who?” asked Minerva mildly.  
          “Paige!” said Holly. “She didn’t do it!”  
          “Do what?”  
          “Kidnap me! She didn’t do it!”  
          “How do you know that?” questioned Minerva cautiously. Madam Pomfrey had already sent her a note relating Holly’s memory loss.  
          “Because I _remember!_ ” replied Holly excitedly. “Everything!”  
          “Indeed!” murmured Minerva softly while containing her excitement. It would seem Luna’s note regarding the music and her suspicions concerning the Room of Requirement had also been correct! “Perhaps you should sit and tell me all about it,” said Minerva in a calm sounding voice as she drew up some chairs. This was a major stroke of luck! “Why don’t you start from the beginning,” she suggested as the students sat. “What happened on the stairs?”

********************

          “Well!” said Minerva McGonagall leaning back in her chair when Holly had finished. “That was quite a story!”  
          “It’s all true!” insisted Holly.  
          “I don’t doubt that it is,” replied Minerva sincerely. Harry had already informed Minerva that he thought Umbridge had something to do with the recent _Imperious Curse_ accusations against him. Harry was so worried something else would happen that he gave Minerva a signed directive requesting that Holly not be removed from Hogwarts for any reason by anyone without either himself or Wizard Pilkington by her side at the time.  
          “Unfortunately,” Minerva continued out loud, “your memories will not be enough to free Miss Crowley.”  
          “Why not?”  
          “You have accused Witch Umbridge of a very heinous crime,” began Minerva.  
          “So?” questioned Becky. “If she did it, she did it!”  
          “True,” agreed Minerva, “but Witch Umbridge is very well connected. Even without the complications, it would be very difficult for any adult to take the word of a third year student against hers.”  
          “What complications?” asked Mark.  
          “Well, for one thing, by your own account, Miss Wycliff, you were given a dose of _Oblitus._ There is no known counter potion for _Oblitus_.”  
          “But the music!” protested Holly.  
          “The music burned,” reminded Minerva. “So there is no evidence. After that, it is all supposition. You’re only guessing you were held in the Room of Requirement and that the memories you now have are yours and not someone’s wild imagination placed in your head. Witch Umbridge will no doubt claim your accusations are but one more example of delusional Potter behavior.”  
          “I’m not crazy!” exclaimed Holly defensively. “And neither is Albus!”  
          “I know that,” agreed Minerva swiftly. “But the average wizard on the street might think otherwise after reading all those articles in the _Daily Prophet_.”  
          “But—”  
          “Miss Crowley has confessed,” informed Minerva calmly.  
          “What!!!” exclaimed all three students in surprise.  
          “To what?” asked Mark.  
          “To everything!” replied Minerva bluntly.  
          “But she’s lying!” exclaimed Holly.  
          “She was questioned under Veritaserum,” Minerva informed the group. “Miss Crowley’s confession is what _she_ remembers and believes.”  
          “That can’t be!” protested Holly.  
          “It can’t be,” agreed Minerva, “but it is. Miss Crowley’s memories are probably the result of Witch Umbridge’s magical manipulations, as I have no doubt she intended Miss Crowley to take the blame for this year’s activities all along, but it is a very convincing confession. In addition,” Minerva continued, “Miss Crowley was found in possession of a journal detailing her activities in written her own handwriting.” Minerva had only skimmed its contents so far. It looked like nasty reading. It made more sense to think the journal had been written at Umbridge’s dictation.  
          “I’m afraid your revived memories will not seem very convincing against a confession under Veritaserum and substantial evidence to the contrary,” Minerva told Holly.  
          “I don’t care what Paige or that journal says,” exclaimed Holly. “It’s all wrong! Let me talk to her!”  
          “I don't think that would help,” sighed Minerva. “Miss Crowley has openly stated that she credits you and the Potters for her troubles. Whether it’s the truth or not, it is the truth as she sees it. She will not listen to your words. I doubt she’ll listen to me, either,” Minerva told Holly, “but I’ll try.”  
          An hour after Paige competed her confession, Minerva started receiving letters from parents again, Slytherin parents. They had somehow learned that Paige had confessed to causing the stadium collapse. Expulsion wasn’t good enough for these parents. Some even thought Azkaban Prison was too lenient; the Slytherin parents wanted blood! Knowing what she now knew, Minerva had no doubt Umbridge had caused the information leaks making a difficult situation even worse.  
          Minerva had received similar letters against Albus after the collapse but Albus had not confessed. The confession made all the difference. With the confession, there was no need to conduct an in-house investigation for Paige as had been done for Albus. Paige was also of legal adult age so her actions fell under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic.  
          Ministry officials arrived soon after news of Paige’s confession had spread throughout the wizard community. No doubt they had received their own letters from angry parents. Once the officials heard Paige’s confession, reviewed her journal and other physical evidence, they decided there was no need for a trial. They made arrangements to send Paige immediately to Azkaban Prison. Paige did not protest the decision.  
          “What about legal help?” asked Mark.  
          “Miss Crowley has already refused the suggestion legal assistance,” informed Minerva. “And as she is of legal age, her wishes must be respected. Besides, I’m not sure how much help that would be. There’s a lot of physical evidence against Miss Crowley. In addition, Miss Crowley is of the opinion that she _deserves_ to go to Azkaban. As long as she feels that way and sticks to her confession,” replied Minerva, “there is not much anyone can do for her.”  
          “But we’ve got to do something to help her!” exclaimed Holly.  
          “You have,” replied Minerva firmly. “You’ve told me what really happened and I believe you. Now I can argue on Miss Crowley’s behalf despite what she says. And I’ll pass on your account to those who need to know. However, there is something else you could do that might help,” Minerva said while rising from her seat. She went to one of the shelves behind her and took off a scroll and quill. “This is an exam paper and quill,” she told Holly. “They record the date when it was written and cannot be erased. Write out everything that occurred last night,” Minerva instructed. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly reluctantly while taking the quill and parchment. Taking out her wand, Minerva conjured up a small end table for Holly to use. “I’m not just assigning you busy work,” Minerva continued noting the discouraged look on Holly’s face. “If we can independently verify the things Witch Umbridge told you and confirm that you could not have learned this information at any other place or time, your story gains more validity. When your key turns up, and it will,” Minerva added confidently, “we can use it, along with the other supporting information we have obtained, to make a case for Miss Crowley’s release and against Witch Umbridge.”  
           With a deep sigh, Holly lifted the quill and began to write. Becky and Mark each reached into their robes and pulled out a textbook. From the looks on their faces as they opened their books, Minerva gathered that they had a lot of practice occupying themselves while waiting for Holly…  
          Minerva returned to her desk and began some writing of her own. First, she wrote a note to the professors and dorms to inform them she was placing the school back under a curfew and directing regular patrols be resumed. Minerva was reasonably certain Umbridge was gone but it was better to be safe than sorry. Then she wrote a letter to Harry Potter relating the evening’s latest developments. She would send it along with a copy of Holly’s account once Holly finished. After that, Minerva wrote a note to Wizard Pilkington. He always said he liked a challenge. Perhaps he could find some legal loophole to keep Paige out of Azkaban while all this got sorted.  
          Then Minerva wrote a letter to Professor Slughorn suggesting he compare his copy of Paige’s Serenity potion against that in the Borage Potions Text. He often kept souvenirs of his more prominent students and Paige had been his prize student. Would Umbridge know he had a copy of Paige’s winning potion and taken time to remove it? Most likely not as Professor Slughorn had not instructed class the year Umbridge had been at Hogwarts; she probably knew nothing of his ways. If the potion recipes were different, then Minerva suggested he immediately fly to London for a very private visit with Wizard Borage to find out why. Minerva outlined some of the things he might expect to learn and their importance. She knew Professor Slughorn’s pride had taken a severe blow when he listened to Paige’s confession. He had personally recommended Paige to be an Auror student. Wizard Borage had publicly praised Paige last year and lavished special attention on her potion creations in his book. He’d probably have to recall that same book and resign his position in shame if his name and book were connected with a crazed maniac. It would be to both their advantage to help clear Paige’s name.  
          When finished with that letter, Minerva set to work writing notes to the Hufflepuff parents assuring them that Holly was fine and the perpetrator had been identified so they need not worry for the safety of their children.  
          “Finished,” announced Holly suddenly. She rolled the parchment and stood up. Becky and Mark swiftly closed their books and looked up at the two.  
          Minerva looked up from her work. “Did you describe the room? Furniture? Decorations?” she asked.  
          Holly gulped. “No,” she admitted.  
          Minerva raised an eyebrow. Holly sat back down, unrolled the parchment and began to write some more. Her two friends sighed and again opened their texts. Minerva finished the Hufflepuff letters and began to compose a response to the next set of letters.  
          “Finished!” Holly announced again.  
          “Everything?” questioned Minerva.  
          “Yes,” replied Holly confidently as she rolled up the parchment. She stood and handed the scroll to Minerva. It was considerably longer than when Minerva had handed it to Holly.   Exam paper could expand its length with usage. “I even included the rings she wore and what the tea set looked like.”  
          “Good,” said Minerva. She unrolled the parchment and briefly read through it. “You say you _recognized_ her?” asked Minerva looking up at Holly with surprise. “Had you met Witch Umbridge before?”  
          “Well, yes,” admitted Holly.  
          “When?”  
          “In Diagon, no, Knockturn Alley with Cousin Harry,” she replied.  
          “The same day you saw Mr. Richards and Miss Crowley?” questioned Minerva suddenly.   She had received Luna’s report of the break-up, both Paige's denial and Holly's account, along with an account from Harry Potter and several sworn eye-witness statements by merchants but none of them had mentioned Witch Umbridge.  
          “Yes,” agreed Holly with a bit of surprise. “She came walking up after we saw Paige dump Richards. How did you know?”  
          “About the break-up?”  
          Holly nodded with obvious curiosity.  
          “It’s my business to know,” replied Minerva briskly and then added more gently, “The stadium investigation is still ongoing," she reminded Holly, "and I've asked all the professors to report any odd or unusual student behavior.  You mentioned the incident to Professor Lovegood, remember?" Holly nodded.  Minerva re-rolled the parchment. "I think you should write about that meeting with Witch Umbridge also.” Minerva added while handing the parchment back to Holly.  
          “Seriously?” the girl asked dismayed.  
          “Seriously,” replied Minerva firmly. “And as Miss Crowley is involved with all this, you should also include what you observed of her and Mr. Richards as well. You never know what piece of information may turn out useful.” It would also be a good check on the accuracy of Holly’s memory. That could become crucial should Holly ever have to testify.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly dolefully. She picked up her quill again and began to write some more. Minerva returned to her own letter writing. For some time nothing could be heard but the scratching of pens.  
          “Finished!” announced Holly breaking the silence in the room. “And before you ask,” she added swiftly, “I even included the color and style of the outfit Paige wore, Richards' appearance and Witch Umbridge’s pointy teeth!”  
          “Very good,” said Minerva approvingly. “You look tired,” she added as she took the scroll. “It’s rather late; you and your friends should return to your dorm and get some rest. Don’t worry,” Minerva said reassuringly as everyone stood. “Things will look better in the morning. All is not yet lost,” she assured Holly.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” Holly said.  
          “Thank you for coming,” she told the three. “If you think of anything else please let me know.”  
          “Yes, ma’am.”  
          Minerva closed the door behind the three students. It _was_ late and she was tired too. But this was no time for resting; she had much to do before morning and little time to accomplish it.

*********************

          “It isn’t fair!” Holly fumed as they walked down the corridor.  
          “What isn’t?” asked Becky.  
          “This isn’t Paige’s fault and yet _she’s_ the one they’re sending to Azkaban!”  
          “They’ll get her out,” said Mark confidently. “Once they verify all the information in your account. They can’t help but let her go!”  
          “And how long is that going to be?” questioned Holly. “They have dementors at Azkaban! Dementors! Dementors are awful!”  
          “Well, the Headmistress said she’d talk to Paige,” began Becky hopefully. “Perhaps she’ll get Paige to take back that confession…”  
          “She wasn’t too hopeful of that,” asserted Holly. “There must be somebody Paige’d listen to!”  
          “Professor Slughorn?” questioned Mark.  
          “Professor Slughorn’s not here!”  
          Holly jumped at the new voice; there were no emotions accompanying it.  
          “Sorry to startle you,” continued Ravindra. Her emotions suddenly winked on but not that of her companion, Sean Finnegan. He was very good at Occlumency. “It’s good to see you up and about, little sister,” said Ravindra warmly, “but you should all either be in the infirmary or in your dorm right now,” she told them. “There’s a curfew on, you know.”  
          “There is? We didn’t know,” confessed Holly.  
          “When did the curfew happen?” questioned Mark.  
          “A couple of hours ago,” informed Sean. “Apparently the Headmistress thinks that Crowley had an accomplice and that intruder may still be on campus.”  
          “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” questioned Ravindra cheerfully.  
          “No,” said Holly promptly. “Um, maybe,” she added uncertainly. Was that what the Headmistress was doing with all those owls while Holly was writing out her account? Holly had assumed Witch Umbridge had left the campus but what if she hadn’t? “We were with the Headmistress,” Holly continued, “but she never said anything about a curfew…”  
          “Talking about other things, I presume?” said Sean good-naturedly. “Like what happened last night?”  
          “Yeah,” Holly admitted uncomfortably. She wasn’t certain what all she could say about that.  
          “Why did you want to see Professor Slughorn?” asked Ravindra curiously.  
          “To see if he could talk Paige out of that confession!” put in Becky eagerly.  
          “Why?” asked Sean. His eyes suddenly narrowed and there was a hard edge to his voice. “She did it!”  
          “She did not!” exclaimed Mark.  
          “I saw her flee the castle,” stated Sean coldly. “She knocked a lot of my friends off their broom before we took her down! Don’t tell me she’s not guilty!”  
          “Well, maybe that,” conceded Holly. “I don’t know why she ran, unless she told her to,” Holly reflected, “but she didn’t kidnap me!”  
          “Madam Pomfrey saw you walk out of the room with Paige,” said Ravindra. “You saying someone else captured you both? Without a sound or sign of a fight?”  
          “No, of course not!” admitted Holly. “But that wasn’t Paige who came to the infirmary!”  
          “Of course it was!” argued Sean. “You’d have known if it were somebody else!”  
          “I didn’t know it was Paige any more than I know that’s you standing in front of me!” Holly said angrily stamping her foot in frustration.  
          “Occlumency?” questioned Ravindra in the silence that followed.  
          Holly sniffed and nodded. She hated talking about her abilities or limitations. “Paige always uses it,” she told the two. “I’ve never been able to read her. So I didn’t think anything of it when she walked in without any emotions. It was o-only, when I saw the _other_ Paige, the one under the _Imperius Curse_ that I realized that, that it wasn’t really Paige…” Holly still felt like such a fool for getting caught that way—especially as Witch Umbridge had used the same method only hours earlier with Professor Lovegood’s shape…  
          “It’s O.K., Holly,” said Becky consolingly. “You couldn’t know, none of us did.”  
          “So, who was it?” asked Sean, all previous comments forgotten.  
          “Some witch named Umbridge!” replied Becky.  
          “Witch Umbridge?” said Sean with obvious recognition. “Why would she do something like that?”  
          “She was looking for something,” replied Mark vaguely, “something she thought Holly had. It doesn’t matter what. What’s important is that whatever Paige did, it was done under the influence of the _Imperius Curse_ and it wasn’t her idea.”  
          “They’re sending her to Azkaban tomorrow,” added Holly. “And she doesn’t deserve that!”      
          “But I heard she confessed under Veritaserum!” protested Sean.  
          “If Paige believes she did any of this,” said Holly fiercely, “then that’s Witch Umbridge’s doing too! I know what I saw! Paige has got to retract her confession! If she doesn’t then she goes to Azkaban without a fight and Witch Umbridge goes free!”  
          “The Headmistress says Paige won’t listen to Holly or herself,” said Becky. “And now Professor Slughorn’s gone. There must be someone who can talk to Paige, talk her out of this!”  
          “Paige has always been pretty much of a loner,” commented Ravindra thoughtfully. “Even more so this last year…”  
          “Richards!” said Holly suddenly.  
          “Paige dumped Richards,” replied Ravindra. “You said so yourself!”  
          “I know,” said Holly determinedly. “But Richards never _dumped_ Paige! He knows her better than anyone. If she’ll listen to anyone, it’ll be Richards. Where is Richards now?”  
          “He should be patrolling the dungeon area,” replied Sean. “Shall we?” he suggested pointing the way to the dungeon.  
          “Yes!” agreed Holly firmly and the group headed down the corridor.  
          “What’s the rest of the story?” asked Ravindra when they reached the stairs.  
          “The rest?” asked Holly innocently as she started down the stairs.  
          “The rest,” replied Ravindra firmly. “Witch Umbridge would have never left Paige to take the fall and you to plead her innocence. So I figure if she muddled with Paige’s memories she muddled with yours as well.”  
          “My memories aren’t muddled!” said Holly fiercely. “It was Witch Umbridge!”  
          “Ravindra has a good point,” commented Sean. “Assuming Paige only acted upon Witch Umbridge’s instruction, why would she let Paige free you to point the finger at herself? Perhaps there’s someone else involved, someone who wants you to falsely accuse Witch Umbridge…”  
          “That would be true,” agreed Mark, “except I don’t think Witch Umbridge knows Holly has her memories.”  
          “Seriously?” questioned Ravindra.  
          “Seriously.”  
          And Holly found herself telling the two about her lost memories and the music she found afterwards…

********************

          “The Room of Requirement!” whistled Sean when Holly had finished. “I’ve heard about it but didn’t know it still existed!” The group reached the main entry and started down the stairs to the dungeons.  
          “It does!” insisted Holly. “And it’s all true!”  
          “I don’t doubt that it is,” assured Sean. “I’ve heard some pretty amazing things about that room. But McGonagall is right. It’s a bit of a stretch to expect a bunch of wizards to take your word over Witch Umbridge without some independent confirmation. Especially as the accusation is coming from you.”  
          “Me?” questioned Holly as they rounded another corner. “What’s wrong with me?”  
          “Because of your relation to Harry Potter, of course.”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Well, it’s common knowledge that Witch Umbridge and Harry Potter don’t get along,” explained Sean. “She was his Professor in Defense Against the Dark Arts one year. She supposedly gave him numerous detentions and kicked him off the Quidditch team—banning him from Quidditch for life, if I recall!  
          “She did?” whispered Holly in surprise.  
          “She did,” affirmed Sean. “If you make any accusations against Witch Umbridge she’ll claim it’s all lies and that Harry Potter brainwashed you against her!”  
          “What!” exclaimed Holly. “Cousin Harry has never said a word about her to me! Not even after we met!”  
          “I don’t doubt that,” agreed Sean. “James was a total innocent regarding his dad’s youth when he entered Hogwarts. I hardly think Mr. Potter’d tell you more than what he’s told his own family. As near as I can tell,” Sean continued, “Harry Potter doesn’t talk about anything to anyone but that’s not something an outsider would readily believe. So that makes it your word against hers,” he told Holly. “Frankly, I don’t think you should mention Witch Umbridge’s name in connection to any of this at all without substantial evidence behind you. She has been in the Ministry for ages and is pretty powerful.”  
          “That’s good advice, little sister,” put in Ravindra. “Best to lay low until you know more of what’s going on. But that doesn’t mean we can’t act on the information to help one of our own. I told you Paige was in the stands when the stadium fell,” she added to Sean. “I had at least three witnesses who put her there.”  
_“Slytherin_ witnesses!” replied Sean harshly. “They’re not too reliable. And that says nothing about where she was _before_ the stadium fell.”  
          “I don’t know where Paige was before the stadium fell,” put in Holly, “but Witch Umbridge admitted to causing the collapse. She said framing Albus was a last minute impulse,” Holly added while they rounded another corner.  
          “She’ll pay for what she did,” said Sean grimly. As he spoke, Sean’s grip on his wand tightened so much his knuckles turned white.  
          “Stop right there!” said a loud forceful voice. Holly jumped at the sound. There were no accompanying emotions! She hadn’t realized anyone else was near! The group froze in place, wands held tensely. Suddenly a tall heavy Slytherin student stepped forward. Holly gasped with surprise. He seemed to come right out of the wall!  
          “Think you could just come in here for some _private justice?_ ” the Slytherin accused angrily. “Well, you’re too late!” A lock of scraggly blond hair fell over his green eyes while he spoke. “ _She’s_ in the tower! And _we’re_ ready for you!” As if on cue, four other Slytherins seemed to come out of the walls on either side of them, each aiming their wands directly at the five! They were all older Slytherins, two girls and two boys, with angry faces and eyes; Holly could sense none of them!  
          “Expecting a little action, Warrington?” spoke Sean fearlessly as he stepped in front to face the tall Slytherin. “A little _pay-back_?” he added pointedly. “Now why would that be, I wonder?” Sean continued in a drawl. “Feeling a little _guilty?_ ”  
          “Not at all!” denied Warrington defiantly.  
          Holly stared from Warrington to Sean in shock. _"Payback?!! For what?"_ Had the Slytherins mounted some sort of an attack on the Gryffindor dorm after the collapse? If they had, what had happened? She’d never heard a word of any of it.  
          “That “She’ll pay for what she did!” was a dead give-away!” Warrington continued coldly. Sean stiffened. Holly knew Sean hadn’t meant Paige but Warrington didn’t know that. Trying to explain things to this angry group would be next to impossible.  
          “I understand the bunch of Hufflepuffs,” put in Drusilla Plimpton with disgust. She was the Slytherin Prefect. Her dark auburn hair was tied tightly back making her look stern and grim. “A little young to do much good,” she added acidly while surveying Holly and her friends, “but I understand it. I never figured you to be in on something like this, though, Vasari.”  
          “Not my style!” said Ravindra promptly. “We’re here to talk, not fight,” she added coolly and pocketed her wand as if to emphasize her point. Ravindra was rewarded by a look of surprise by all five Slytherins.  
          Holly looked at the faces of the Slytherin students so filled with suspicion and hatred. She could feel no hint of emotion to tell her what they might do next. She couldn’t feel Sean’s emotions either, but he looked cool, confident and ready for action. Though their wands didn’t shake, Becky and Mark were both worried and nervous. Ravindra, however, felt as confident as she looked. She had absolutely no doubt about what she had just done.  
          Holly gulped and then followed Ravindra’s lead wordlessly pocketing her own wand. She was relieved to note she was holding her regular wand not her Lily wand. Becky and Mark looked fearfully from the Slytherins to Holly before returning their wands to their place as well.  
          Sean looked around and sighed. “Pity,” he said as he reluctantly lowered his wand. “I’ve some new spells I’d love to try on you!”  
          The Slytherin group relaxed their stance a bit, but only a bit. Their wands still pointed threateningly at the group.  
          “What do you want?” demanded Warrington.  
          “Like the lady says,” replied Sean airily as he put his wand away. “We want to talk.”  
          “So talk!” Warrington commanded lowering his wand a tad more.    
          “Not to you, Warrington,” replied Sean coldly. “What would I _ever_ have to say to you?” he added with disdain. Warrington’s face twisted with anger and his wand raised up again threateningly.  
          “To whom?” asked the other Slytherin girl before Warrington could respond further. She wore a dark green dueling suit, jacket and loose fitting pants tucked into knee high black boots. Around her waist was a woven black and gold belt. The gold was a serpent that seemed alive, twisting and turning as she moved. Her long red-gold hair was tied into a tight bun that rested on top of her head. Holly had seen her around but had never bothered to learn her name.  
          Sean looked over at Holly before he spoke. “To Richards,” he replied coolly looking back at the girl.  
          The girl stepped forward. “Why?” she demanded planting her wand beneath Sean’s chin poking it into his skin at his throat.  
          “That is between him and us, Summerby!” he told her calmly refusing to give ground though she was clearly poking the wand deep into his throat trying to push him back.  
          Summerby abruptly withdrew her wand. “It’s some sort of trap!” she announced to her associates. “This group is a diversion. Tell the others to stay ready and watch for the real attack.” One of the other Slytherins, a hefty boy with black spiky hair, nodded and took off down the corridor.  
          “And pass the word that we want to see Richards while you’re at it,” Sean called out cheerfully after him.  
          “Now what?” questioned Plimpton.  
          “Now we wait,” announced Ravindra.  
          “For what?” asked Warrington suspiciously.  
          “For Richards,” Ravindra replied calmly. “There’s no attack and we’re not leaving without talking to Richards.” So everyone looked warily at each other while they waited.   
          Holly studied the Slytherin faces. She knew several of the older Slytherin students practiced Occlumency, but having five emotionless Slytherins come at her suddenly had been positively unnerving. Holly had spent the year unblocked as much as possible, preferring to deal with the extra emotions because it made her feel “safer.” It was distressing to be confronted yet again with the reality that her empathic senses alone could not protect her—hadn’t even come close.    
          Holly forced her mind to think of other things. She wanted to ask Sean about that attack after the stadium fell; what had happened, but decided that would not be a good question at the moment. So Holly pondered instead how the Slytherins had managed to come out of the wall like that. It couldn’t be a disillusionment charm. That required liquid, something they clearly hadn’t used...  
          “Nice dueling suit, Summerby,” commented Ravindra cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you wear it before. Is it new?”  
          “None of your business!” snapped Summerby.  
          Ravindra laughed airily. “You’re not still mad because I accidently exploded your potions paper are you?”  
          “It was no accident and you know it!” retorted Summerby angrily.  
          “Of course it wasn’t,” agreed Ravindra.  
          “You made me take a zero for that paper!” Summerby accused fiercely stepping over towards Ravindra and pointing her wand threateningly.  
          “Better that than a zero for the term!” countered Ravindra coolly stepping forward face to face with Summerby despite her pointed wand. “There are strict rules against plagiarism,” Ravindra continued. “And if you think Professor Slughorn wouldn’t recognize an article that was printed in _Potion News_ four years ago then you are dumber than I thought!”  
          Holly didn’t need to be an Empath to note from Summerby’s expression that Ravindra was right on the mark with her accusation. Summerby glowered wordlessly at Ravindra and the tension between them was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.  
          Holly was actually relieved when some more Slytherin students approached. As near as she could tell, with the exception of the spiky haired student leading them, they all had emotions! More important, Holly recognized the distinctive angry emotions that could only be Richards within the group.  
          Richards pushed through to the front. His robe and prefect badge couldn’t hide the untidy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. “I hear you want to talk to me, Finnegan,” Richards growled. “I’m here, now. So talk.”  
          “I don’t want to talk with you!” denied Sean airily. He stepped back from Richards and a mocking smile played on his lips.  
          “But I do!” spoke up Holly swiftly before the sudden surge of anger and outrage she sensed from the Slytherin group exploded into words.  
          Richards turned to Holly, perhaps noticing her for the first time. _“You!”_ he exclaimed with open hatred. “You’ve caused enough trouble already!” he accused. “I don’t want to talk with you!”  
          “But I want to talk to you!” Holly insisted while stepping forward to face Richards. She refused to back down from the force of his anger, from all their anger, which now seemed to be directed solely upon her.  
          “So talk!” he commanded.  
          Holly looked around at the angry suspicious Slytherins. Behind her she could sense Ravindra and her friends. Holly took courage from their confidence. She took a deep breath before trusting herself to speak. “In private,” Holly told Richards firmly. It would be hard enough to convince Richards without the listening ears of the rest of the Slytherins.  
          “What?!” exploded Warrington. “No way!” he insisted and Holly could sense sudden curiosity within the other Slytherins.  
          “This doesn’t concern you!” Holly told Warrington while she held her gaze on Richards’ hazel eyes willing Richards to see her sincerity.  
          “Think Richards can’t hold his own against a third year Hufflepuff _Potter,_ Warrington?” taunted Ravindra.  
          Richards flushed. “I don’t need your help,” he told Warrington. “Over there,” Richards added, pointing to an empty wall on one side between the two groups. “And make it quick!” he told Holly. “I’m on duty!” Holly nodded and walked over to the wall with Richards. Holly drew her wand.  
          “No spells!” commanded Plimpton sharply.  
          Holly froze. “O.K.,” she told Richards. “You cast the Muffeliato spell!”  
          Richards drew his wand. _“Muffeliato!”_ he commanded and the outside sounds immediately seemed muffled and distant. “Now speak!” he ordered.  
          Holly took a deep breath. “You’ve got to help Paige!” she told him urgently.  
          “Paige?” said Richards with surprise. “Not my problem.”  
          “Yes she is,” argued Holly. “She’s your girl!”  
          “No she’s not!” replied Richards. “Not any more. Paige dug her own grave,” he added bitterly. “Now let her lie in it!”  
          “That’s just it!” Holly argued. “She didn’t dig her own grave,” she added using Richards’ choice of metaphors. “Someone else did it for her!”   
          “Huh?”  
          “It wasn’t Paige who came for me in the Infirmary,” Holly told Richards. “It was someone else. Someone using polyjuice!”  
          “Who?” demanded Richards in disbelief.  
          “I can’t say,” replied Holly suddenly mindful of Sean’s warning about mentioning Umbridge’s name, “but the point is, Paige was framed! She didn’t do it!”  
          “She confessed!” exclaimed Richards.  
          “I know!” admitted Holly. “And I’m certain that the same person who framed Paige muddled her mind so much that Paige thinks she did it even though she didn’t!”  
          “So tell McGonagall your thoughts not me!”  
          “I did,” Holly told him. “The Headmistress said Paige is bound and determined to go to Azkaban! You’ve got to talk her out of that confession get her to ask for legal help!”  
          “Not me!” exclaimed Richards. “She can rot in Azkaban for all I care!”  
          “You don’t really want that!” Holly snapped. “I’m an Empath, remember? Don’t bother trying to lie to me! Paige’ll listen to you,” continued Holly insistently. “I know she will!”            
          “No she won’t,” he argued. “She dumped me, remember?”  
          “I don’t think she did,” Holly told Richards. “Not really.”  
          “Yeah, right!” said Richards derisively.  
          “Did you dump Paige for a _veela_ in June?” asked Holly suddenly.  
          “What?” asked Richards in surprise.  
          “That’s what Paige thinks,” Holly added without waiting for Richards’ answer. “I think,” she continued quickly before Richards spoke, “that the same person who muddled Paige’s mind used the _Imperius Curse_ to force Paige to break up with you.” The idea had occurred to Holly while she was writing up her account for Headmistress McGonagall. Witch Umbridge had made a big deal about Holly being in Knockturn Alley but no one had inquired why _she_ was there. Knowing what she now knew, Holly suspected Witch Umbridge was there to stage a very public break-up…  
          “Why?”  
          “Because you knew Paige better than anyone else!” Holly concluded. “You were the only one who would know if something was wrong with her. You _did_ know didn’t you?” Holly accused suddenly. “That’s why you were always lurking around on the seventh floor wasn’t it? You knew Paige was up there somewhere didn’t you? Knew something was off! But I bet you couldn’t say anything could you?” continued Holly with more confidence. “Who would believe the rantings of a jilted boyfriend? Well, they’ll believe you now! I believe you! The Headmistress will believe you! Paige will believe you! She has to!” Holly stopped to take a breath. “I know Paige hurt you,” she began again. “But Paige needs you now; she’s got no one else! You’ve got to help her Richards, you’ve just got to!” Richards seemed to straighten before Holly’s eyes. Was that a glimmer of hope she suddenly sensed?  
          “I’m going!” Richards suddenly announced and turned away from Holly breaking the Muffeliato spell.  
          “Where are you headed?” demanded Plimpton suspiciously.  
          “None of your business,” snapped Richards.  
          “It is if it gets you on report!” she retorted. “There’s a curfew on!” she reminded him.  
          “I’m a prefect!” reminded Richards. “I can be out after hours!”  
          “But not alone!” she argued. “What do you think’ll happen if you run into that group of Gryffindors headed this way? You’ll be lucky if putting you on report is _all_ that they do!”  
          “I’ll go with him!” volunteered Anthony Richards suddenly. Holly could sense Anthony’s worry and concern.  
          “Me too,” said Scorpius Malfoy. “That’ll free the rest of you to get ready for the attack.” Was that loyalty Holly sensed or just relief? The Slytherins were expecting an attack. Holly wondered if Scorpius thought he was going to one with Richards or avoiding one by leaving?  
          “Very well,” agreed Richards reluctantly. “Come along.” Lifting his wand in ready position, Richards headed down the corridor followed by Scorpius and Anthony.  
          “The password’s _tortoise shell!”_ called out Holly suddenly. Holly wasn’t certain where Richards was going but she hoped she knew. She had sensed both hope and determination among Richards’ usual angry emotions. Richards hesitated momentarily and then continued walking. The three turned a corner and were soon out of sight.  
          “Tortoise shell!” said Plimpton sharply with recognition. “What have you conned Tom into doing?”  
          “He’ll explain when he gets back,” assured Holly. “Or not,” she added honestly. “I’m done,” Holly told her friends. She suddenly felt totally exhausted. “Let’s get out of here.” They nodded and the group started back down the corridor.  
          Sean was last to retreat. He drew his wand defensively and waited until the others were well on their way before moving. Then Sean walked carefully backwards while warily watching the Slytherins. When he neared the corner Sean lifted his wand and flamboyantly saluted the Slytherins. “Have a nice night,” he said in a mocking voice then turned and rapidly joined the others.

 


	49. Chapter 49

          Minerva McGonagall sighed and put down her quill. She’d done about all she could tonight; maybe it would be best to try to get some rest before tomorrow. The knock on the door was totally unexpected. Minerva rose to answer it; she needed to stretch her legs anyway. “Mr. Richards!” she said in surprise after opening the door. “What are you doing up at this hour?”  
          “I want to find out why you’ve got Paige locked up in the tower?” he said belligerently.  
          Minerva stared at Tom in surprise. “What?” she asked faintly.  
          “All she did was take a morning flight,” he added assertively, “and a bunch of Gryffindors started chasing after her like she was a common criminal! And then the professors charged out! Of course she had to defend herself!”  
          “Miss Wycliff was missing and the last person in whose company she was seen was Miss Crowley,” reminded Minerva.  
          “And Wycliff’s back!” reminded Tom. “Does Wycliff accuse Paige of anything?”  
_Wycliff?_ This was new! Ever since their relationship had been revealed, Mr. Richards persisted in referring to Holly as “Potter!”   
          “No?” Tom added when Minerva did not immediately respond. “So why is Paige _still_ in the tower!”  
          “Miss Crowley has confessed,” informed Minerva. However dubious that confession might be…  
          “Ridiculous!” scoffed Tom confidently. “Paige would never confess to anything!”  
          “She did,” assured Minerva.  
          “I don’t believe you!” accused Tom flatly. He stepped forward so he was nose to nose with Minerva. “I _demand_ to see Paige; hear this so-called “confession” for myself!”  
          “You overstep yourself, Mr. Richards,” said Minerva sharply refusing to back away. It was highly improper for a student to order the Headmistress about!  
          “Sorry,” mumbled Tom automatically. He looked down and took a step backwards. “But I still want to see her!” he insisted.  
          Mollified, Minerva studied Tom. His assertive manner was most insulting. But there was something about him, a kind of confidence she hadn’t observed in ages…  
          Wait a minute! Tom’s words indicated that he knew Holly was awake! Not only that, he knew she wouldn’t accuse Paige! Had the two been talking? What else had Holly said? It was tempting to ask, but Minerva doubted Tom would admit to seeing Holly let alone having talked with her. It didn’t matter what Holly said, not really. Tom was clearly there to talk Paige out of her confession and he was someone Paige might actually listen to. It suddenly seemed a very good idea to permit Tom to visit Paige. But how to give Tom what they both wished without letting him think his rudeness had gotten him his way?  
          “Surely Professor Slughorn reported that Miss Crowley confessed,” Minerva began and was rewarded by a nod of agreement. “Do you call him a _liar_ too?”  
          “No, ma’am, of course not,” replied Tom quickly, “but what he said didn’t make any sense, so I figured he was repeating a bunch of lies put out by you or the Ministry to cover your tails!”  
          Minerva frowned at the accusation. “Explain.”  
          “He said that Paige confessed to doing the stadium!” Tom replied. “That’s a lie and you can’t lie under Veritaserum!”  
          “It’s a lie?”  
          “It is!” he asserted confidently.  
          “And you know that how?”  
          “I just know,” he stated firmly.  
          “How,” persisted Minerva. “Did someone tell you?”  
          “No!” Tom insisted. Finally he added, “I saw her!”  
          “The whole time?”  
          “Yes!” Tom snapped. “I saw her from the time she came down for breakfast to the time the stadium collapsed and she never went down to the base of the stadium, ever!”  
          “What was Miss Crowley doing all that time?” asked Minerva.  
          “After breakfast, Paige went down to the stands and started mixing the Victo—” Tom stopped as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to.  
          Minerva’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Independent confirmation? “She was mixing the Victory Tea?” she questioned Tom sharply. “You saw her?” Minerva added when he didn’t respond.  
          “Yeah, I saw her!” Tom admitted reluctantly. “She was there an hour before the game mixing and pouring the stuff. She kept at it after the game started and she never left the front row until after the stadium fell!”  
          Minerva kept her expression stern and forbidding but inwardly, she felt jubilant! Clearly Tom had been watching Paige! Had he been watching her other times as well? Minerva was certain of it! Now they could check his recollections against Paige’s confession! Perhaps Holly’s less-than-credible memories would not have to be used to try to free Paige. “I don’t believe Miss Crowley’s name was ever mentioned in connection to the tea,” Minerva said cautiously.  
          “I’m no snitch!” exclaimed Tom scornfully. “The way Lovegood was questioning everyone about that tea, it was clear whoever mixed it would be in big trouble!”  
          “And now?”  
          “Now, I figure if it were Paige talking and she _really_ was telling the truth, she would have mentioned tea not the stadium!”  
          “That makes sense,” agreed Minerva thoughtfully. “However, Miss Crowley has indeed confessed to causing the stadium collapse and said this while under the influence of Veritaserum. I heard her myself. I do not doubt your word,” Minerva added quickly before Tom blew up with indignation, “but this is an inconsistency that needs to be resolved. Perhaps you should ask Miss Crowley to explain it,” she suggested. “I would be interested in hearing her response…”  
          “Yes, ma’am,” Tom said meekly but could not hide the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.  
          “Come with me,” Minerva added and Tom nodded stepping aside so Minerva could lead the way to the tower.

********************

          “You should know,” began Minerva as she mounted the steps to the tower, “that Miss Crowley seemed a bit … distraught after her session with the Ministry” (suicidal would be a better term,) “so the officials decided to designate someone to stay with her.”  
          “They did?” questioned Tom.  
          “Yes,” confirmed Minerva as they walked. “That means it will be difficult to obtain a private conversation with Miss Crowley.”  
          “Oh.” Tom’s voice had a crestfallen sound to it.  
          “Difficult, but not impossible,” assured Minerva confidently, “provided you gentlemen will keep your thoughts and observations to yourselves while we are with the Ministry representative.” That was meant for all three students: Tom, Anthony and Scorpius. Minerva had been pleasantly surprised to find both Anthony and Scorpius sitting next to the gargoyle when Tom and she had descended the stairs. For once, Tom was following the rules and Minerva would not have to dock Slytherin house points for his actions. Minerva requested the two come along knowing Tom would need someone to travel with him back to the dorm when this was over.    
          “Yes, ma’am,” agreed Tom. “We will, won’t we,” he added looking sternly at his brother and Scorpius. They both nodded their heads.  
          Minerva stopped in front of the door at the top of the tower. It was heavy and thick. She turned to Tom. “I need your wand first,” she told him.  
          “What?” exclaimed Tom, clearly insulted by the request. “You think I’m going to try to break her out or something?”  
          “If I thought that,” Minerva told him calmly, “I would not let you visit Miss Crowley in the first place. This is merely a standard security precaution. Your wand, please.” And she held out her hand expectantly. After a moment of thought, Tom reluctantly relinquished his wand. “Thank you,” said Minerva. She placed the wand securely under her belt. “You two may keep your wands as long as you remain outside the room,” she told Tony and Scorpius, “but put them away for now.” They nodded and put their wands away.  
          Minerva drew out a heavy brass key and inserted it into the lock. She pushed the door open. It moved slowly inward with a loud creak. “Good evening, Witch Bulstrode,” Minerva said pleasantly as she entered. Tom followed.  
          Witch Bulstrode had apparently been seated when the door opened. She stood hastily, straightened out her robe and pointed her wand threateningly at the group. “What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.  
          “This is Prefect Tom Richards, his brother Mr. Anthony Richards and Mr. Scorpius Malfoy,” said Minerva insisting on proper introductions before business. “This is Witch Millicent Bulstrode from the Ministry of Magic.” The three students nodded their heads politely towards the Witch in acknowledgement.  
          “We’re here to check up on things,” Minerva added as an explanation. “It occurred to me you might appreciate a bit of a break—a chance to slip down to the kitchen and get a few snacks, maybe some hot chocolate, to keep you going through the night…” Not that there was much left of it. Witch Umbridge was a Ministry employee. She probably had numerous spies within the Ministry. Minerva had no idea if Witch Bulstrode was one of them, but there was no reason to risk giving Umbridge the opportunity to learn anything was amiss with her well-laid plans.  
          “That’s uh, very thoughtful of you,” replied Millicent uncomfortably. “But, um, I’m not supposed to leave her… “ Her head turned slightly and her eyes strayed to the other seated figure in the room: Paige Crowley.  
          Paige, Minerva noted, was still seated in the heavy chair where she had sat when she was questioned. It looked as if she hadn’t moved a millimeter since then. A tangled mass of black hair rested on her shoulders and tumbled down her back. Paige’s expression was calm and without emotion. Her black eyes didn’t blink and she gave no sign that she even knew they were there. A heavy black security chain dangled down from Paige’s right wrist and clanked restlessly as it stretched out on the floor. It was firmly attached to the wall behind Paige. Minerva did not have a key to the padlocked cuff at her wrist. It contained the Official Ministry Seal and was enchanted to resist all forms of unauthorized unlocking. The Ministry was obviously still smarting over the escape of Sirius Black over twenty years ago and was taking no chances on Paige.  
          “You’re supposed to make sure Miss Crowley remains in good health,” corrected Minerva. “We will remain to insure that until your return.”  
          _“All_ of you?” questioned Millicent suspiciously.  
          “Of course not,” assured Minerva pleasantly. “Mr. Richards and Mr. Malfoy,” Minerva indicated the two younger students, “will accompany you to the kitchen and back. Prefect Richards and I will remain behind until your return.”  
          “I need no escort!” bristled Millicent.  
          “Of course you don’t,” agreed Minerva, “but currently the school is under security measures; no one may walk the halls of Hogwarts alone,” Minerva explained. “It would be bad form to permit a Ministry Official to openly disregard school rules—worse if you were somehow injured and it became known I did not insist you follow proper procedure...”  
          “Very well,” grumbled Millicent as she stretched a bit and straightened out her robes. “Come along!” she told the lads and headed towards the door. Anthony and Scorpius both drew their wands and hastened to follow. “I won’t be long,” she assured Minerva.  
          “No need to hurry,” Minerva called out after Millicent. “I’d rather you be safe than sorry.” The heavy door closed behind Millicent leaving Minerva, Tom and Paige alone in the room.  
          Minerva readjusted her glasses and fixed a steely gaze on Tom. “You have until Witch Bulstrode returns,” she told Tom and then swept out of the room.

********************

          Tom Richards stared in disbelief at the silent figure sitting in front of him. The traveling suit Paige wore was immaculate, but it was enchanted with a cleaning spell. Underneath the suit, Page’s pale face was smudged with mud. Her long, usually sleek hair was a tangled mass of black. Paige’s hands were scratched and red; her fingernails were ragged. Paige didn’t blink, not once and her black eyes seemed to stare vacantly into space. Did she even know he was there?  
          “Paige,” began Tom softly, uncertainly. “It’s me, Tom. Are you O.K.?”  
          “Go away!” she said in a soft clear voice not bothering to turn her head or look at him. Her expression remained serene and calm.  
          “Not this time,” Tom said with more confidence than he felt. He had left before when Paige had commanded him. When he had refused to leave, she had swept imperiously away or Apparated, but not this time. This time she would have to stay, have to listen to him, if only he knew what to say.  
          Tom looked around the room and finally drew up the chair Witch Bulstrode had been sitting in. He moved the chair so it was right in front of Paige, so she couldn’t help but see him and sat down. Paige pointedly turned her head away from Tom but otherwise didn’t move. Where to begin?  
          “Uh, Wycliff says you think I dumped you for some _veela_ in June,” he started tentatively. “I don’t know where you got that idea, don’t know where Wycliff got the idea for that matter,” he added reflectively. How did Wycliff come to know anything about Paige, especially something like that, something he didn’t already know? “But I swear to you that I never, ever, went out with a _veela_ , not even once!” Tom put all the sincerity and passion he could into his words. Was this it, the thing that had torn them apart?  
          “I _saw_ you!” Paige accused, still not looking at him. Her words seemed to tremble with repressed emotion.  
          “When?” Tom challenged. He was on firm footing now. “The day after the awards ceremony you got word that your Aunt Ursula had died; you immediately took off for Scotland. I was going to join you as soon as I made sure Tony got home safely. But you sent me word to not come so I didn’t. So how could you have seen me in June?” Tom demanded. “How?!”  
          “I _saw_ you!” Paige insisted in a hiss.  
          “No, you didn’t!” Tom corrected forcefully. “Because it never happened! I wrote,” he added continuing his account of the summer, “several times, but you never answered. Do you remember the letters?” Paige never moved. “And when I learned you were back in London, I tried to see you but you refused—you sent me a note saying it was over instead! You said the same thing when I saw you in Knockturn Alley. Knockturn Alley was the _first_ time I saw you since you took off for Scotland,” he informed her. “I was never ever with any _veela_ even when you _weren’t_ around!” Tom assured her. “And if you think otherwise, truly believe it, then somebody’s been messing with your mind!” That was what Wycliff had suggested. Was Wycliff correct? “I’m thinking,” Tom added carefully, “that if you don’t remember the summer right, then maybe you don’t remember the rest of the year so well either. That would explain how you could confess to blowing up the stands when you didn’t.” Paige’s body seemed to stiffen at his words but she otherwise did not move.  
          “You didn’t do it,” Tom repeated as persuasively as he could. “I don’t care what you think you believe,” he added, “I know you didn’t do it!” he insisted. “I saw you!” Tom continued emphatically. “Rather, I saw you _not_ do it,” he amended. “You know me, Paige,” Tom added. “You know I’m not lying! I would never lie about something as serious at this! And never to you! Especially not to you! Believe me! You did not do this!” Tom stopped. How would she respond?  
          For a long time, nothing happened. Then, Paige turned her head towards Tom. Her black eyes fixed themselves on Tom. “I remember doing it!” she said defiantly. “I remember carrying the bottles to the base of the stands,” she continued before Tom could disagree. “I remember my intense delight when I found Potter all alone and the satisfaction I felt when I cast the _Imperius Curse_ on him… “ Paige spoke with such conviction that Tom would have believed her had he not known otherwise.  
          “I remember other things,” Paige continued. “How Potter’s owl bit into me as I cut his feathers making me spill the green dye over my hands…”  
          “Your hands were never green that day!” whispered Tom.  
          “…ripping Potter’s bag, dumping his flobberworm bucket out, knocking Potter off his broom, spreading the jinx ash over the flagstones…” Paige continued as if Tom hadn’t spoken. “I can remember all the things I did to him as if they were yesterday,” Paige added. She stopped abruptly as if challenging Tom to disagree, but he only sat dumfounded by her assertions.  
          “But that’s _all_ I remember!” Paige added suddenly. Her eyes shined brightly as she spoke. “I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday. Or if I even _had_ breakfast, or the weather last week, the dress I wore on the first day of school or any day for that matter, a class lecture, completing an assignment, what I did over the holidays…”  
          “That’s impossible!” Tom declared in disbelief. Paige did not reply. Tom searched her face for any sign she was joking and found none. “Since when?” he finally asked.  
          “Since the awards ceremony,” Paige admitted softly.  
          “Nothing at all?  
          “There’s you and that _veela_ ,” Paige replied. “Tall and willowy, long blonde hair, deep blue eyes, musical laugh…”  
          “I don’t go for blondes!” denied Tom vehemently. “You know that! There’s enough blondes in my family!”  
          “If these memories aren’t mine,” declared Paige suddenly, “then what have I left?”  
          Tom stared at Paige with horror and sudden comprehension. No wonder she clung so steadfastly to that confession. Tom well remembered the day he suddenly realized he’d lost nearly a week of time—when he had no idea what he had done or said. “None of your business!” Tom had snapped when Tony had asked, “Where were you?” but in reality Tom had no answer and he had buried his fears behind an angry facade. That had been scary enough. What would it have been like to have lost nearly a whole year of his life? It was unimaginable.  
          “If it helps,” Tom said slowly, “I think that jinx ash memory is your,” he told her.  
          Paige’s eyes seemed to widen. “You do?” she asked softly, almost eagerly.  
          “Yeah. I saw you spreading dust on the floor every morning.”  
          “You did? Did you say something?”  
          “Course not,” replied Tom scornfully. “You were doing it to Potter,” he added as justification, “and he deserved it for what he did on the train!” It hadn’t taken a rocket scientist for Tom to connect the dust on the floor to the people Potter had fallen onto each day.  
          “I remember doing that too,” confessed Paige suddenly while looking down and away. “Setting off the smoke bomb.”  
          “Oh,” said Tom rather guiltily. “You might have,” he acknowledged thoughtfully. “You refused to enter the car after you saw me and the bomb went off sometime after that but I never saw you with any bomb…”  
          The two sat silently for a while. Suddenly Paige looked up again. Her imperious cold demeanor had vanished. “What am I going to do?” she asked. Her black eyes seemed to glisten with tears…  
          “We’ll figure it out together,” Tom told her. He reached out impulsively and took her hand in his. Instead of pulling it away, Paige gripped Tom’s hand tightly. Tom never heard the chain’s warning clink as the two sat together lost in thought.

 ********************

          Gringotts opened to the public promptly at 10:00 a.m. Harry Potter stood quietly in the shadows within the bank and watched a Goblin use a huge shiny key to carefully unlock the front doors. Harry’s right hand and wrist was firmly hidden beneath long sleeves and a robe so the glow of the goblin bracelet he wore would not reveal his presence within the shadows. Harry had no idea if others knew about that bracelet, but he was not willing to take that risk today.  
          Harry had been very busy after he received the urgent owl from McGonagall. His blood had turned to ice when he read Holly’s account and then began to boil. While Harry had no idea of the current whereabouts of Umbridge, he was certain where she would be first thing Monday morning! That meant Harry had to work quickly to be there before her.  
          Harry had first contacted Ron and Hermione. The four, Ginny included, had a long discussion about what to do next. Then Harry sent an urgent owl of his own to Prime Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. The two had a very private meeting and then Harry Apparated outside the walls of Gringotts well before daylight. The Prime Minister, Dean Thomas, head of Magical Law Enforcement and two well-seasoned Aurors joined them. The group stood outside of Gringotts and watched while Harry loudly examined building features, made measurements, counted off numbers and speculated on various possible methods of entry.  
          As Harry suspected, his actions did not go unnoticed. Presently a goblin appeared to make inquires. It was Griphook, of course. After a long conversation and some negotiations, the five were admitted into Gringotts. It was expensive, but if it worked, Harry considered it money well spent. Then it was a matter of waiting until the bank opened. Harry wished Ron and Hermione were by his side, instead of Griphook and Kingsely but Kingsley insisted otherwise and as his presence was absolutely necessary, Harry deferred to his wishes.  
          Scarcely had the Goblin finished unlocking the door when it opened. Harry’s heart gave a lurch as he recognized the familiar figure stepping confidently through the entry.  
          “Easy,” whispered Kingsley placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder preventing Harry from forward motion. No doubt he sensed Harry’s need for immediate action and was warning against it. With considerable effort, Harry managed to stay still. Witch Umbridge swept in giving the two goblins stationed by the silver doors scarcely a glance. She walked up to the first counter. The goblin there had just opened his window for business.  
          “Good morning madam,” said the goblin courteously. “How may I help you?”  
          “I’ve come to visit vault 321,” said Umbridge importantly. Her fluttery girlish high-pitched voice was clear and easy to understand in the nearly empty bank.  
          “You have the key, madam?” asked the goblin in a respectful voice.  
          “Right here!” she said confidently. Witch Umbridge removed a slender goblin chain with a key dangling upon it from around her neck. She handed both the chain and key to the goblin. The goblin peered at the key closely. He seemed to stare at the key an extraordinarily long time. Finally he looked back at Witch Umbridge. “This is not the key to vault 321!” he announced.  
          “What!” stammered Witch Umbridge. “But of course it is! It has to be! You’ve made some mistake!”  
          “No!” said the goblin flatly regarding her stonily with his black eyes.  
          “Well, check again!” she ordered. “It’s for vault 321!” she said louder as if the goblin were hard of hearing.  
          “No, it is not!!” repeated the goblin stubbornly. “I do not make mistakes!” he added proudly. Then he handed the key _back_ to Umbridge. Griphook made it clear that the goblins would not involve themselves with wand carrier affairs.  
          “You did this time!” Witch Umbridge insisted while shoving the key under the goblin’s nose for another look. “I _know_ this is right!”  
          Kingsley gave Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. That was Harry’s cue. Kingsley was satisfied that the key the witch possessed was not the one she expected.  
          Harry stepped forward. Griphook and Kingsley followed. “Hello, Witch Umbridge,” he said in a courteous sounding voice.  
          Startled, Witch Umbridge turned. “Why Mr. Potter! Wizard Shacklebolt!” she said in that high girlish voice. “What brings you here?”  
          “We couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” Harry said calmly while dodging Umbridge’s question, “but could you tell us the vault number for that key?” he added addressing his question to the goblin. It was not a question a Gringotts’ employee would usually answer but Umbridge did not necessarily know that. The vault numbers on Gringotts keys were invisible to wizard eyes. The goblins figured that if a wand carrier did not know the correct vault number corresponding to the key then the wand carrier probably had no business using the key. But if the person who _rented_ the vault that belonged to the key asked the question, that was another matter.  
          The goblin grasped the key dangling from Witch Umbridge’s hand and peered at it again. Then he looked up at Harry. “827,” he answered and let go of the key. It swung gently from its chain glinting brightly from the light within Gringotts.  
_“Yes!”_ Harry cheered inwardly. Independent confirmation of Holly’s account! No matter what story Umbridge spun now, she could never deny that she had held the key to Holly’s vault less than a day after it was taken. _“She asked for my key,” Holly had written, “and I gave it to her; I couldn’t stop myself. But I gave her my key, not Dumbledore’s. And I kept my head down so she wouldn’t see my face wouldn’t somehow read that she’d gotten the wrong key…”_  
          “827,” said Kingsley in a casual sounding voice. “Isn’t that the number for the vault you and I set up for Miss Wycliff a while ago?”  
          “Yes, it is,” said Harry keeping his voice light with considerable effort. “When Holly reported the key missing, I thought it might eventually turn up at Gringotts,” he added informatively.  
          “You are fortunate indeed,” said Kingsley. “Lost Gringotts keys are notoriously hard to find. It usually takes a goblin to retrieve them for a very stiff fee and they’re not always successful if the key is well hidden. However did you come by the key, Dolores?” Kingsley questioned curiously.  
          “Why, uh,” Umbridge sputtered, “I found it outside the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade. It was quite by accident,” she added giving a little giggle.  
_“LIAR!”_ Harry wanted to shout out, but he didn’t. That wasn’t how Kingsley wanted things done.  
          “I was walking along and noticed this little glint in the Hog’s Head trash…” she added elaborating. “If this is Wycliff’s, I would have thought a girl that age would be able to take better care of her things, especially something as valuable as a Gringotts’ key…”  
          “I agree,” replied Harry in a low voice hoping the rage he felt at her insinuations didn’t show. How _dare_ she imply this was all Holly’s fault! “I bought Holly a goblin chain and watched her place it and the key around her neck only last August. She doesn’t remember loosing her key at all,” Harry added as he held out his hand casually, a mute request for the key the Umbridge still held. Harry wanted that key more than anything else at the moment. Holly shouldn’t have to suffer more losses because of Umbridge.  
          “I find that hard to believe,” said Umbridge boldly. “Everyone knows Goblin chains don’t accidently break or come off on their own. She probably took it off in play and forgot where she left it. Unless, of course, you bought one of those cheap goblin chain replicas; they are notorious for breaking at unexpected moments…” Umbridge smiled widely at Harry showing those awful pointy teeth. “Did you buy a replica?” Umbridge asked sweetly. The implications were clear—either Harry was too cheap to buy a proper chain for his ward or Holly was an irresponsible liar!    
           Harry gritted his teeth. “I bought her a proper chain,” he replied stonily. “Probably that very one, in fact,” he added indicating the chain still dangling from Umbridge’s fingers.  
          “Well, there you have it,” said Umbridge with that predatory smile. “The child has obviously taken up the Potter habit of telling _falsehoods_ , “ said Umbridge boldly. “I knew no good could come of the association!”  
          “Come now, you judge too harshly, Witch Umbridge,” put in Kingsley breaking the tension between the two. “A forgetful moment is not necessarily a habit of falsehoods.”  
          “Of course not,” Umbridge purred as the key and chain dangled tantalizing close to Harry’s fingers, “but it can indicate a dangerous trend if permitted to continue unchecked...”  
          “A matter I intend address as soon as possible,” said Harry in a smooth sounding voice forcing himself to keep calm despite her digs. Umbridge was obviously laying the groundwork should he or Holly make accusations against her at some future date. “As soon as I return her key. May I?” he questioned and looked pointedly at the chain still in her hand.  
          “What? Oh, yes,” said Umbridge with a girlish giggle. “I forgot I had that in my hand.”  
          No she hadn’t! Harry could see it in her eyes. She probably would have liked to keep the key to swap for the other one. But with Kinsley there remembering the vault number Umbridge couldn’t easily argue rightful possession of the key—especially after claiming to have “found” it in the first place.  
          “Here,” Umbridge said airily and she dropped both key and chain into Harry’s waiting hand. Harry’s fingers automatically closed tightly over the key. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was a _thief_ or anything…” Umbridge added pointedly.  
          “Of course not,” murmured Harry dryly. “Now, could you tell me exactly when and where you found the key?”  
          “What? Why?” Umbridge’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
          “I find it useful to have as much information as possible before I confront someone with a lie, of course,” said Harry easily. _“And I want you to bury yourself so deeply that no amount of words will get you out later!”_ Harry added silently.  
          “Oh, well,” Umbridge gave a little throat-clearing cough, _(heh, heh!)_ “I don’t exactly remember the day,” she began thoughtfully, “but it was quite a while ago. I was walking down the alley and there it was!” she added with a girlish giggle. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”  
_“I’ll bet!”_ thought Harry disappointedly. _“Too vague to be of use!”_  
          “What about the vault number?” questioned Kingsley suddenly.  
          “What?” said Umbridge obviously flustered by the change in topic.  
          “How did you come by that particular vault number?” Kingsley further clarified.  
          “Well, it was guess, that’s all!” said Umbridge firmly. “And obviously not a very good one!”  
          “It didn’t sound that way to me,” said Kingsley thoughtfully. “You sounded pretty certain of your number…”  
          “I’m always certain,” replied Umbridge proudly. “It’s part of my job at the Ministry.”  
          “Perhaps,” said Kingsley evasively. “You know, Harry was just telling me a story about Miss Wycliff this morning,” he began conversationally.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes,” Kingsley continued. “It seems that she acquired a second key over the summer.”  
          “She did?”  
          “Yes. Some sort of gift.” Then he raised his voice, “What would you say the odds were that someone would walk into Gringotts carrying one of Miss Wycliff’s keys while asking to see the vault that went to her _other_ key, Mr. Thomas?”  
          “Pretty high,” said Dean strolling into view. Umbridge seemed to jump visibly at his unexpected arrival. One could hide easily in the darkness of Gringotts. “Unless, of course, that same person already knew more about the keys in question than she let on…” he added cheerfully. “Do you?” questioned Dean.    
          “Uh,” for a moment Umbridge looked uncertain. Then she seemed to stiffen. “No!” she said firmly. “It was a guess, that’s all and I _dare_ you to prove otherwise!” Umbridge added the last part looking directly at Harry. He could see nothing but cold hatred in her face. “I have other business to attend to,” Umbridge continued firmly, “so, if you’ll excuse me, I shall be leaving now.” She turned and moved her stubby body swiftly off towards the exit. Harry lurched impulsively after her.  
          “No!” commanded Kingsley grabbing Harry’s shoulder quickly, holding him back. “Let her go!”  
          “No!” hissed Harry fiercely while struggling to break away. “I’ve got to stop her!”  
          “And do what?” Kingsley questioned digging his fingers deeply into Harry’s shoulder to hang on. “You’re no hooligan, Harry! Don’t let her turn you into one now!”  
          “But the things she’s done!” Harry exclaimed. “To Albus and Holly! You’ve no idea what she has put my family through!”  
          “Yes, I do!” insisted Kingsley quietly. “I’ve read Holly’s account and I _believe_ it—all of it! It was awful, Harry,” Kingsley admitted, “but your family is strong and they will recover! What Dolores did to Paige Crowley is far worse!” Harry abruptly stopped struggling. Kingsley was right, of course. Nearly a year doing Umbridge’s bidding! It was unimaginable! “Miss Crowley was a rising star _and_ a Slytherin star at that,” Kingsley reminded Harry. “What kind of life will she have now? If you go after Dolores alone, it becomes a personal vendetta and your enemies will shelter her. Give us time to collect the evidence and charge Dolores for what she did to Miss Crowley. No one will condone that; no one will help her, not even your enemies!”  
          Kingsley released his hold on Harry sensing it was no longer necessary. “Go home, Harry,” Kingsley implored gently. “You got what you came for—Holly’s key and four impeccable witnesses to testify that it was in Dolores’ hand not less than twelve hours after it was reported missing. We can use that when things come to trial. We talked about this earlier,” Kingsley reminded Harry. “Even without the memory glitch, the account of a third year student will hold little weight against the claims of a well-established, _respected_ member of the wizard community. If we had managed to get Dolores to run,” Kingsley reflected regretfully, “that would have been different and we would have been ready, but she didn’t run. So let her go for now, Harry and go home. We’ll get her,” Kingsley assured. “And when we do, she won’t walk free!”


	50. Chapter 50

          “Could you pass the water, please?” asked Holly as she sat at the bench.  
          “Sure.” Conner passed the heavy pitcher over to Holly. She grabbed the handle and poured herself another goblet full of water before setting the pitcher down on the table.  
          “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff “ exclaimed Conner taking a drink of his butterbeer. “It looks like solid rust!”  
          “I like it that way,” replied Holly with satisfaction. She picked up her goblet and drank deeply savouring the memories that came with the rusty taste.  
          She was sitting in the Hog’s Head with her friends, the Potter clan, Lawrence and Conner all catching the last few minutes of relaxation before exams began. Taylor was in the infirmary recovering from a bout of too many Weasley Memory pills-the result of his less than successful effort in exam preparation. Conner started getting his butterbeer at the Hog’s Head after that _Daily Prophet_ interview fiasco. As only Holly’s group and the Potters frequented the Hog’s Head, Conner had hung out with them more and more getting one of them to come along when he needed to go somewhere at school.  
          It had been a rather eventful week. Albus had approached Holly early Monday morning: “What’s it all about?” he had hissed angrily. “Sean said to talk with you!” Word had just gotten out that the Ministry of Magic _hadn’t_ taken Paige off to Azkaban Prison as originally announced. So Holly had met with the Potters in Hagrid’s hut on Monday after class. She told them everything that had happened over the weekend including her lost and found memories. Holly included Conner in their group because she was certain he would want to know more about where he had been those three missing days.  
          “Jinxing the Slytherins,” mused Rose. “Ingenious! We never thought to check them!”  
          “I doubt they would have agreed had we asked,” put in Albus dryly.  
          “Of course, I might have thought of that kind of jinx if you had told me about the hair,” scolded Rose.  
          “And I’d have told you if you had asked about that sort of thing,” retorted Albus defensively. Albus and Rose still bickered at every opportunity.  
          “Do you know of any counters for that sort of thing?” asked Holly changing the topic before the two got to serious fighting. After all, she had known about the hair too and it had never occurred to her that it might be used for something else later…  
          “Perhaps,” answered Rose thoughtfully, “but I’d better check the library to be sure…”  
          “More tea?” asked Hagrid. Everyone shook their heads. “Lay pay der nones?”  
          Holly thoughtfully fingered Hagrid’s latest French creation that was already in her pocket. Small, golden brown and round. It was incredibly light but the outer surface was as hard as a rock and Holly had been unable to even bite into it to taste. Not that she was sure she wanted to… It might work as a Christmas ornament, were it the right time of year… Perhaps Sasha would love to roll it around. “Sure,” she replied. “It’s a strange sounding name,” Holly commented. “What’s it mean?”  
           “It means, uh, never you mind!” Hagrid said turning red at the question. Rose’s straight face hid bubbling mirth. Holly resolved to remember the name and ask Mark. Perhaps he understood French. If not, he could help her look it up. “I never liked that Umbridge Witch,” Hagrid commented changing the subject as he passed the plate.  
          “Oh?” Everyone was interested especially as the name was totally unfamiliar to the Potters and Conner.  
          “She tried ta have me arrested when she wus in charge of Hogwarts!”  
          “Really?”  
          “Yeah. Brought five other wizards ta do it in th’ dead of night, she did. Barely managed to get away! Had ta live on th’ run in the woods fer th’ rest o’ th’ school year!”  
          “How do you suppose the Headmistress kept the Ministry from carting Paige off to Azkaban this morning,” asked James curiously. “The last I heard, they were pretty determined.”  
          “Well, seein’ as how you know so much already, I expect I can tell you,” began Hagrid as he put the tray of Lay pay der nones down. “That was Miss Crowley, herself’s doing.”  
          “Really?” questioned Rose. “How?”  
          “Well, the Headmistress asked me up ta th’ tower fer help this mornin’ but didn’ say why,” began Hagrid. “Every thing was quiet ‘til th’ other Ministry people arrived. When Miss Crowley saw them she gasped out that it was all a _conspiracy!_ That she didn’ make no confession at all an’ then she started screamin’ like a banshee! Wouldn’t stop fer nothin!’  
          Th’ Headmistress said she couldn’t let Miss Crowley be taken away while in such an excited state and insisted I get Madam Pomfrey immediately. Madam Pomfrey was in th’ infirmary with her bag in hand. I think she was waitin’ fer me. Well, Madam Pomfrey took one look at Miss Crowley an’ said th’ poor child was not fit fer travel! Then she gave Miss Crowley a sleepin’ potion and shooed th’ Ministry folks away! Told ‘em ta come back sum other day! They were not pleased, I can tell you an’ made all sorts of threats! But the Headmistress backed up Madam Pomfrey and insisted they leave!  
          But before she let them go th’ Headmistress demanded they give her th’ keys ta Miss Crowley’s chains! They sure didn’ want ta give up them keys!” Hagrid added reflectively. “But McGonagall started quotin’ verse and line from somewheres about the duties of th’ Headmaster of Hogwarts an’ askin’ how could she properly carry out those duties without keys ta of _all_ locks on the premise? She threatened to charge th’ Ministry folks with obstruction of th’ proper operation o’ Hogwarts and promised their certain dismissal if they didn’ give up them keys! They did finally, an’ left vowing all sorts of dire repercussions should Miss Crowley escape!  
           After they left, th’ Headmistress handed me the keys, ordered me ta strike off th’ Ministry chains and take Miss Crowley to th’ Infirmary, which I did. Mcgonagall looked rather pleased with how things turned out,” Hagrid finished. “I guess I now know why.”  
          The next morning, Tuesday, an owl carrying a tiny package arrived for Holly.  
          “Look!” exclaimed Becky after Holly opened her package and unwrapped the tissue paper. “It’s your key!”  
          “How did he get it back so fast?” wondered Mark.  
          “I don’t know,” answered Holly honestly. She had figured that key was lost for good certain Witch Umbridge would never give it up. Holly unfolded the note that came with the tiny key and the slender chain attached to it. _“She is still free!”_ the note warned. “ _Remain vigilant and guard your keys well..._ ” Holly dropped the chain and key around her neck and then tucked the key underneath her shirt. Then Holly thoughtfully fingered the other key still in her pocket. She could always hide it, but hiding places were often left unguarded. Holly finally decided the key was safest where it was. She could never travel alone so it was as if she had a guard or two on her key at all times.  
          Ravindra pulled Holly aside on Wednesday to tell her that dueling practice had been cancelled. Then she told Holly how Headmistress McGonagall gone to her Auror class. “You are all training to identify and catch Dark Wizards,” the Headmistress began. “It is time you did a bit of practical field work.” Then she placed Paige’s journal and all the other evidence that accompanied Paige’s confession in front of them. “Miss Crowley is of the opinion that she has been framed!” Headmistress McGonagall said calmly. _“Prove it!”_  
          The group had begun going over Paige’s journal word for word. They were comparing it against other reports and attendance records looking for discrepancies. “You’re in the journal, Holly,” continued Ravindra in a serious tone.  
          “I am?”  
          “Yes. Paige wrote she walked you out from under Madam Pomfrey’s nose without the slightest hitch. Then, when it was clear, she slammed you against the wall knocking you out! That what happen?” she asked curiously.  
          “Um not really,” replied Holly. “It was Witch Umbridge who did all that.”  
          “That’s what I thought,” said Ravindra with satisfaction. “Paige, ah, also wrote she strung you up and used the Cruciatus Curse on you, repeatedly. Did that happen?”  
          “No,” answered Holly promptly.  
          “You certain?” Ravindra’s eye narrowed suspiciously as she watched Holly. “The Cruciatus Curse is supposed to be pretty bad. Perhaps you just don’t want to remember it…”  
          Holly flushed at the suggestion she had left something out, edited her own memories, but it was Ravindra asking so Holly considered the idea seriously. “No,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m certain that never happened. I would have woken up with a scratchy throat from screaming so much, memories or not!”  
          “Oh, Holly!” said Ravindra with sudden understanding. “You’ve felt the Cruciatus Curse already haven’t you! You’ve never said a word about that!”  
          Holly nodded looking down at the ground, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Never directly,” she mumbled as if that made things better. “They were aimed at someone else but I wasn’t blocking at the time so I could still feel—”  
          “I’m so sorry!” Ravindra exclaimed. “No one should have to endure things like that!” Ravindra wrapped her arms around Holly.  
          “It’s O.K.,” said Holly appreciating the warmth of Ravindra’s concern and affection anyway. “The point is, I got over it and it was nothing I needed to forget. So I’m certain neither Paige nor Witch Umbridge did any of that to me even though my hands were all bandaged up when I woke…”  
          “Paige also said you struggled so hard when she tried to give you the _Oblitus_ and sleeping potions that you knocked her and the table over! So she tied you up so tight you couldn’t move, pried your mouth open and forced the potions down your throat!”  
          Holly gulped forcing back her tears. “That happened,” she whispered while clinging tight to Ravindra. That memory was still painful to recall. “Witch Umbridge tied me down and held my head still while Paige did the rest…”  
          “Fascinating!” said Ravindra with interest.  
          “What?”  
          “Have you ever heard of a Pensieve?”  
          “No,” replied Holly dully, still lost in the misery of her memories.  
          “It’s a vessel some wizards use to store important memories so they retain their freshness and clarity,” explained Ravindra. “It sounds as if Witch Umbridge somehow managed to turn Paige into a Pensieve.”  
          “Huh?”  
          “I think Witch Umbridge put _her_ memories into Paige—that’s how Paige could say all that under Veritaserum! They were real memories that actually happened! Just not _Paige’s_ memories! Perhaps there’s a way to remove the added memories just like one can retrieve them from a regular Pensieve… Thanks a lot little sister!” said Ravindra excitedly. “You’ve given me a great idea on how we should proceed…” Ravindra gave Holly a final hug and deposited Holly back with her friends. Then she hurried off with Sean.  
          By Wednesday, Paige had recovered enough to be released from the Infirmary. Healer Winonan had come over to examine her. He insisted on giving Holly the once-over afterwards as long as he was at Hogwarts. Winonan pronounced Holly in good health despite her experiences. Strangely enough, the Ministry Officials did not return to take Paige to Azkaban.  
          While the investigation of her actions continued, Paige was placed under House arrest, literally. She had to remain on the Hogwarts premises at all times and could not go anywhere unless accompanied by a professor or a prefect. Tom Richards had volunteered to take on most of the responsibility for watching Paige. His overall mood had brightened considerably and Richards seemed to stand ever straighter with Paige clinging to his arm.  
          Professor Slughorn returned from, wherever, on Thursday. He passed out a pop exam saying he would be in London on important business the next week and would have to give his exam early. Then the Professor offered extra house points to every student who helped Prefect Richards with his special _research_ project... He didn’t explain further, but Holly had a pretty good idea what that “project” was.  
          Eager for extra House points, Mickey had quickly volunteered. He reported that Richards, with Paige alongside, had interviewed him for his memories of Paige—what she had said, did, wore, when—anything about Paige the past year. Richards told Mickey he was developing a long-range “memory enhancement” potion and needed some baseline information to judge if the potion actually improved a person’s memory. Richards said Paige was there to confirm Mickey’s accuracy.  
          Holly suspected all that was a cover story for Richards' real purpose. Becky and Mark had no idea what they had been doing while under the _Imperious Curse_. It was probably the same for Paige. Paige didn’t have organ music to recover her lost memories and judging from the “confession” she supposedly gave, what memories Paige did have were rather inaccurate… The interviews were probably the only way Paige had to piece together what she had done during the past year.  
           Holly gave an account of her adventures at the weekly House meeting on Friday. It was heavily edited as everything was still under investigation but Holly assured the group that it was not Paige who had walked out of the Infirmary with her and encouraged everyone to go for the extra House Points and talk with Richards, not, she admitted to herself privately, that she would.  
          Though the prospect of extra House points sounded good, Holly didn’t think she could bear to do any interview with Paige sitting nearby. Try as she might, Holly couldn’t get the image of _two_ Paiges out of her mind—two Paiges standing across from each other, one with blocked emotions and the other incredibly happy. The one without emotions had coldly struck Holly down! Logically, Holly knew which one walked with Richards, but deep down, Holly wasn’t so sure. Holly doubted she would ever fully trust Paige while Paige practiced Occlumency. Nor could Holly recognize a Paige without Occlumency having never truly sensed Paige with actual emotions. Just thinking about the whole situation made Holly feel distinctively uncomfortable.

********************

          Holly set down her empty goblet. “One more week,” she mused. After that, school would be over and she would be back with her family. It was nice being with her friends, but the prospect of being with her family again, of walking the halls without fear of invisible witches, climbing stairs without Pettigrew and unlimited music practice, even if it was only the piano sounded exceedingly good. Perhaps Holly could talk dad into taking the family on a vacation somewhere, someplace where she wouldn’t have to be wary of flashbacks! That sounded even better. Holly planned to give the Dumbledore key to Cousin Harry at the station. He would know what to do with it and then Holly wouldn’t have to worry about Witch Umbridge either.  
          When the conversation lulled, Holly’s eyes traveled to the painting above the bar. Sure enough the girl in the painting was still intently searching for something. At the moment, she had her back turned and seemed to be peering though the green of the background paint. “It’s so sad the way she keeps on looking,” Holly commented idly to no one in particular.  
          “Who?” asked Rose.  
          “The girl in the painting,” replied Holly nodding at the portrait while she spoke. “She’s always searching for something and she’s so sad…”  
          The rest of the group stopped what they were doing and curiously regarded the portrait on the wall.  
          “I don’t think she was that way last year,” mused James.  
          “She wasn’t?” questioned Holly slowly. “I wonder what happened?”  
          James shrugged. “Who knows?” he said without concern. “Paintings do their own thing.”  
          “Who is she?” questioned Conner.  
          “That’s Ariana,” answered Lawrence and proceeded to relate a story about how the portrait once hid a secret passage into Hogwarts that people used to join the Battle of Hogwarts…  
          “That’s very interesting,” began Conner politely. Holly knew he was lying; Conner had little interest in the Harry Potter story. “But who was she originally? I mean, why did someone paint a portrait of her in the first place?”  
          “Why does anyone have a portrait done?” answered Rose with annoyance, “because she’s family, of course! Ariana was Aberforth’s little sister. Aberforth Dumbledore!” She repeated slowly and patiently as if speaking to a child. “You know, the owner of the Hog’s Head!”  
          “Dumbledore?” questioned Conner curiously. “Any relation to that famous wizard everyone keeps talking about?”  
          “Duuuh!” replied Albus. “Albus Dumbledore was his brother!”  
          “And _hers_!” thought Holly with surprise. No wonder Aberforth was so protective of the portrait. Did Albus Dumbledore love her as well? “ _Of course he had!”_ Holly assured herself as Ariana proceeded to methodically shake out her clothes. _“She was family, after all! He probably loved and trust—”_  
          Abruptly Holly rose from her seat and went over to Mr. Dumbledore. He was in the process of taking some stew to some of the other patrons. “Mr. Dumbledore!” Holly began standing in front of him stopping the wizard mid-stride. “Your sister, Ariana,” she added pointing to the portrait. “When did she start hunting for something?” Mr. Dumbledore just stared at her hostilely. “It’s important!” Holly added grabbing his arm and holding him in place when he started to move away.  
          “Holly?” came Becky’s voice. “What is it?”  
          “Was it in June?” Holly persisted ignoring Becky and following when Mr. Dumbledore shook off her arm and continued walking off. “Late June? Maybe early July?” The man stopped walking momentarily and turned to look at Holly. He said nothing nor could Holly sense anything, but Holly was certain that the look he gave her with his blue eyes was one of surprise—meaning, perhaps, that she had guessed right!  
          Taking the silence for a “yes,” Holly left Mr. Dumbledore walked up to the painting.  
          “Holly!” exclaimed Becky worriedly as Holly suddenly scrambled over the bar to get closer.  
          “Hey!” Mr. Dumbledore shouted angrily. “Just what do you think you are doing?” Dimly Holly heard the tray with its stew slam down on a table.  
          “I’m terribly sorry,” came Becky’s anxious voice. “Holly’s not like this normally. I don’t know what’s got into her!”  
          “Hi, there, Ariana!” began Holly hastily talking to the portrait in the frame. “Remember me? That thing you’re looking for,” Holly continued without giving Ariana a chance to respond. “Was it small and gold?” Ariana stopped what she was doing and straightened out her clothes a bit before looking sadly at Holly. “I promised not to say,” she told Holly mournfully.  
          “Get away from her!” said Aberforth angrily from the other side of the bar. “Get out of here now!” he ordered.  
          Holly ignored him. “Did your brother Albus,” began Holly again, “did he give you something to keep? A long time ago?”  
          Tears streamed down Ariana’s face. “I, I cannot say,” she whispered regretfully. “I promised!”  
          Aberforth Dumbledore meanwhile had gotten to the other side of the bar. He wrapped his hand around Holly’s arm above the elbow. His grip was surprisingly strong for one who looked so old. “Get out, now!” he growled yanking Holly away. “And don’t ever return!”  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly as Mr. Dumbledore started dragging her off. “Was it a key?” Holly shouted at the portrait while being pulled her further and further away. Holly jerked her arm up and out, broke free and hurried back to the portrait while digging her hand into her pocket. “Was it _this_ key?” she asked desperately and held the Dumbledore key up as high as she could for Ariana’s inspection while Mr. Dumbledore again grabbed her arm and pulled her away.  
          “Perhaps?” whispered Ariana with a hopeful note. The tugging abruptly stopped.  
          Holly again broke free of the grip and returned to the frame. She used the back counter and shelves as stairs, toppling some of the glassware and bottles already on them, and climbed up higher so she was almost face to face with Ariana holding the key ever closer to Ariana’s eyes. “Is it this one?” Holly asked again.  
          It seemed an eternity while the portrait studied the key in Holly’s hand. _“Yes!”_ she suddenly said and the sunniest smile Holly had ever seen appeared on Ariana’s face. Her hand reached down toward the key and Holly held the key ever closer to Ariana’s fingers finally pressing the end of the key to the canvas itself and onto her fingers. The key seemed to melt into the canvas and could be clearly seen between Ariana’s fingers as the portrait drew it back to examine.  
          “Thank you so much!” exclaimed Ariana with obvious happiness. “Where did you find it?”  
          “It was given to me,” Holly told the portrait. “I didn’t know where to return it until just now. I’m sorry its absence caused you such distress,” she added seriously.  
          “That’s all right,” replied Ariana cheerfully as her hands went to her neck. “I have it back now. I was afraid Albus would find out that I had lost it and get angry with me,” the portrait added as she removed a slender, near invisible, chain from her neck.  
          “Oh, he would have never gotten mad at you,” Holly assured Ariana. Holly recognized the chain Ariana held as a goblin chain much like the one she wore around her own neck. “He was the one who gave it to me, sort of. It wasn’t your fault for loosing it at all; he would have never blamed you!”  
          “When Albus first gave it to me,” continued Ariana confidentially, “he made me swear to never tell anyone about it and asked me to keep it safe. Then he said that I was his secret “keeper,” she added proudly. Ariana unclasped the chain and restrung the key. “He made me feel so important and I didn’t want to let him down.”  
          “You haven’t!” assured Holly. “And I’m certain it’ll never go missing again!”  
          “I hope not!” agreed Ariana. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she asked worriedly as she slipped the key and chain over her head. It vanished from sight under her clothes.  
          “Tell anyone what?” asked Holly feigning innocence.  
          “Nothing,” replied Ariana. “Nothing at all.” She straightened up and looked about the room with sort of a vacant smile on her face and Holly realized their conversation had ended.  
          “Good-bye,” said Holly uncertainly not knowing what else to say. Ariana did not reply; she only smiled rather vaguely down at Holly. Holly looked around the room and to her intense embarrassment, discovered that everyone was looking at her! “Uh, sorry about that,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “I, uh, got kind of carried away,” Holly added feeling the need to explain things. As she spoke, Holly suddenly realized she had just handed over a very valuable key to its “Keeper” in full view of everyone! That had been stupid indeed! The people nearest were friends but there were others in back that Holly didn’t recognize. What would they do; whom would they tell? How could she undo the damage? “You see,” Holly continued grasping for something to say. “My parents are, ah, Muggles and I don’t get to talk to paintings at home…”  
          “Holly?” whispered Becky rather loudly in a voice that trembled.  
          “Yes?”  
          “Perhaps you should get down from the shelf…”  
          “Uh, yes,” agreed Holly feeling more embarrassed than ever. She looked guiltily down at the mess she had created in her haste to get to Ariana. “That would be a good idea…” Holly carefully lowered herself back to the floor. Then she rapidly started picking up the fallen dusty bottles and goblets (fortunately, nothing had broken) and putting them back on the shelves. She was painfully aware that they probably weren’t in the right order and knew her fingers were causing “clean” marks on the otherwise perfect dusty coating on the bottles…  
          “Holly?” whispered Becky again.  
          “Huh?” said Holly scarcely looking up from what she was doing.  
          “Perhaps you should leave that to Mr. Dumbledore and get out from behind the bar…” she suggested.  
          “What? Oh, yeah,” agreed Holly thoroughly disconcerted. “Maybe I should…” She put down the goblet she had just picked up and headed for the opening of the bar counter figuring that was better than scrambling over the top like before… In doing so, she had to pass Mr. Dumbledore. He stepped back and regarded her silently with his piercing blue eyes. “S-sorry,” Holly mumbled guiltily when she came close. “I, ah, won’t be bothering you again…” She squeezed past him to continue down the side of the bar.  
          “I owe you an apology,” he said suddenly in a low voice.  
          Holly stopped. She turned to look at him. “No you don’t,” she told him. “I didn’t know until today and then I wasn’t sure… I should have tried to explain things to you first.” And that was the truth! Holly had been so excited that she might know the cause of Ariana’s distress that she had not stopped to think of the adverse consequences of her actions. Everyone knew who the “Keeper” was now. Holly abruptly stepped back to the old man. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Dumbledore,” she whispered to him suddenly, “but I think I just made things much worse!” His eyes widened in surprise. “That key!” Holly continued explaining. “Someone wants it real bad! A Witch Umbridge!” Holly added. He deserved to know the truth whether he believed her or not. “She’ll know where it is now and I don’t know how to get it back!”  
           Mr. Dumbledore stared at Holly a real long time and those blue eyes seemed to pierce right through Holly where she stood. Then he bent and started to rearrange the bottles on the shelf. _“Neither… will … she,”_ he said in a voice so low Holly could scarce understand him. “Get on the other side of the bar, Miss,” he ordered in a louder voice, a familiar gruff angry one that could be heard by everyone in the inn. “That’s where the _patrons_ belong.  
          “Yes, sir, sorry sir,” said Holly moving quickly and out from behind the bar.  
          “And the rest of you,” he added loudly addressing the others in the Inn. “Show’s over! Find something better to do with your time!” Immediately people turned their heads and looked at their food, drink or companions, anything but Holly, but Holly could still feel their intense curiosity. She was certain they were still watching her from the corner of their eyes.

********************

          “Well, at least he didn’t kick us out this time,” whispered Holly in a positive voice to her friends who were standing on the other side of the bar. “And I know who the “Keeper” is now,” she added brightly.  
          “Yeah, as does everyone else in the Hog’s Head,” replied Mark dryly. The group moved back to their table as they talked. “You don’t get to talk to _paintings_ at home?” he added in disbelief. “Honestly! How lame can you get?”  
          “It was the first thing I could think of,” confessed Holly as they sat back down. “Do you think they’ll believe it?” Meaning everyone else in the inn.  
          _“I_ didn’t believe it!” Becky told Holly. “And I wanted to!”     
          “That the key that, uh, you-know-who, wants?” asked Conner.  
          “You-Know-Who is dead!” snapped Holly testily knowing in the wizard world, there was only one person who was “You-Know-Who.” “But yes,” she admitted quickly before Conner could take offense, “that’s the key she’s after.”  
          “So now everyone knows where it is and who the “Keeper” is,” commented Conner matter-of-factly. “Way to go Holly!”  
          “Well, I didn’t plan on this!” Holly replied defensively. “It just sort of … happened.”  
          “It might not be all that bad,” put in Mark thoughtfully. “They may know about the Keeper but they don’t know the significance of that name or the importance of the key. And I doubt Witch Umbridge would reveal that. If we’re really lucky, folks may consider this just another example of “Potter genes” and forget all about it.”  
          Holly flushed. “Great,” she muttered sarcastically. “Now I’m _hoping_ people will think I’m crazy!  
          “You’ve got to warn him!” insisted Becky suddenly. “He’s got to hide the painting or something! The moment this Umbridge lady finds out she’ll be after it!”  
          “I _did_ warn him,” informed Holly. “And I think he believed me. But I don’t know if it’s enough…”  
          “It could be,” mused Rose. “After all, Aberforth was Dumbledore’s brother and a member of the Order of Phoenix,” she informed them, “and he’s _still_ alive! That can’t have been too easy to achieve—especially since he never closed the inn or went into hiding.”  
          “Still, you should probably let dad know,” suggested Albus.  
          “I will,” assured Holly confident that Cousin Harry would know what to do. “Let’s get out of here!” Holly said abruptly. She had suddenly realized the room was still filled with emotions of intense curiosity and she had no doubt about whom they were curious. While Holly couldn’t control the thoughts of others, she didn’t have to stay and feel it. “I don’t like being the center of attention…” she muttered as explanation. So Mark, Becky and Holly said their “good-byes” and hastily left the Hog’s Head.

********************

          Much later, after Holly toured the streets of Hogsmeade to reassure herself she wasn’t the center of attraction and had helped Mark and Becky on a final shopping excursion for family gifts, Holly and her friends joined other Hufflepuffs in one of the carriages headed back to Hogwarts. Holly was relieved that no one asked about the incident with Ariana. Perhaps the people at the Hog’s Head never said anything to anyone. More likely, they just traveled in different circles…  
          “Gee, it sure has gotten cold all of the sudden,” commented Mickey to no one in particular as they neared the entrance of the Hogwarts castle.  
          Holly shrugged and hunched down lower while hugging her arms tightly. It was colder but it was spring so the weather could be changeable. Holly hated the journey back to Hogwarts. The slow pace of the thestrals often reminded Holly of a walk she had once taken along the same path, one she’d rather not think about. So Holly kept her eyes fixed on her lap the whole time and tried to think of other things, like school and class work.  
          “That’s new,” commented Lynette curiously. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”  
          “Just gray shapes flying around,” muttered Holly to herself unable to take her mind off of what she knew was ahead. “They’re not real, not really,” she added reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about, especially if you don’t look at them.”  
          “I wonder what they are?” queried Carrie Breysburry.  
          “Dementors, of course,” replied Holly not looking up. That’s what was always there, right at the entrance, circling ominously about. She was surprised Carrie had asked, though. By now, all the Hufflepuffs knew why Holly kept her head steadfastly down when approaching Hogwarts.  
          “Yeah, yeah,” said Mickey impatiently, “we know all about your invisible Dementors. We’re talking about those things up there!” And he raised his arm pointing.  
          Setting aside her own problems, Holly lifted her head and looked in the direction Mickey indicated. In horror, Holly saw several Dementors floating _through_ the Dementors already there. The original Dementors vanished but the others continued nonstop heading right towards them!

_“NO!” screamed Holly as the huge tree in front of her seemed to explode! “No! No! No!” she continued screaming as her whole world turned into blackness!_


	51. Chapter 51

          James Potter leaned back in the carriage, closed his eyes and tried to mentally recite the spells he would need for the exams. He hadn’t planned on returning to Hogwarts so early, but then Lawrence had run into Alexia while they were at Hogsmeade. He hadn’t said anything but it was pretty clear the two wanted some “alone” time. Rather than feel like the “third” man, or an odd man out with some other group, James had decided to return with Albus and Rose. McGonagall’s travel-in-a-group rules were a pain sometimes, most of the time, actually. It didn’t help knowing why she had installed them. It just meant he had less excuse to break them. As long as this Umbridge lady was loose, dad would never forgive him for ignoring basic safety precautions.  
          After a while James gave up the effort. It was too nice a day to spend reviewing spells. He opened his eyes, sat up and looked around. Rose had her nose in a book, as usual. Conner was showing Albus his latest “manga” book.  
          “…Now if the pictures would move like a regular portrait, then maybe they’d be worth reading,” Albus told Conner, “otherwise…”  
          “It would be too distracting if they all moved!” countered Conner. “That’s what videos are for,” he added. “Besides, I don’t want my books critiquing my reading habits!”  
          “They wouldn’t screech so if he used them more,” replied Rose tartly without looking up from her book. “And _you_ would do better to use your books some more yourself rather than lending them out all the time!” she added primly to Conner.  
          James sighed, leaned back and hastily closed his eyes. There was no way he was going anywhere near that topic—didn’t even want to look like he was listening. Conner was referring to the Study Minder enchantment Rose had placed on all Albus’ books with as a Christmas gift. The Study Minder loudly reminded Albus how many days since he had last opened each book and gave words of encouragement for frequent usage. Of course, Albus had avoided the Minder’s harping voice by not opening his books at all.  
          The last time Albus had opened one of his books was in the library. James heard Albus’ Divination book had kind of given a frustrated piercing screech that did not set well with the rest of the students in the library or Madam Pince, who promptly banned Albus from the library for a week for creating such a disturbance. Albus had taken to borrowing Taylor or Conner’s books during class and for homework assignments just to avoid listening to the Minder reminders. Rose was still angry that Albus didn’t properly appreciate her gift and annoyed at anyone else who seemed to support Albus’ opinions. James was glad the year would be ending soon so the books would no longer be a bone of contention between the two. No doubt something else would come up between them to argue over.  
          “What’s that?” asked Conner curiously.  
          “They could be dementors…” replied Albus speculatively.  
          “Can’t be,” said Rose promptly. “You know dementors are only at Azkaban.”  
          “You’d be more convincing if you’d actually lift up your head and look before pronouncing judgment,” retorted Albus sharply.  
          “What’s a dementor?” questioned Conner.  
          Rose gave an exaggeratedly loud sigh and James heard her book slam shut. “Honestly,” she told Conner with exasperation. “Don’t you read anything _wizard?_ Dementors guard Azkaban Prison, drain happiness out of the air around them and they look like, well, I think they look like … _that!”_ she ended in disbelief.  
          James’ eyes flew open. He looked in the direction indicated. Sure enough, several sinister gray shapes seemed to be circling around a carriage parked near the Hogwarts’ entrance.  
          “They look like gray clouds!” said Conner bluntly.  
          “They do!” agreed James and he could feel his blood turn cold. There was only one thing that would make them circle like that; the carriage could not be empty! “Albus, do you think you could get the thestrals to hurry up?”  
          “Sure.” He scrambled out of the carriage and landed mid-air in front of them. Suspended over apparent nothingness, Albus’ body somehow continued forward keeping an equ-idistance from the ground. He stretched out and whispered something into the air. Immediately, the carriage speed seemed to quicken and angled off in the directions of the dementors. It was handy having someone who could actually see the thestrals to talk to.  
          James drew out his wand.  
          “What are you doing?” questioned Conner.  
          “If they’re dementors, they’ll have to be chased off!” James told him.  
          “Are you sure you can do it?” questioned Rose worriedly as she drew out her own wand.  
          “Of course he can!” answered Albus loyally. “He’s been practicing all summer!” Albus pulled out his wand as well and pulled himself upright on the back of the thestral. It looked pretty weird him sitting in the air that way.  
          James smiled grimly. _“Think happy thoughts; think happy thoughts!”_ he told himself. He appreciated his brother’s faith, and hoped he could do it justice. Real dementors wouldn’t be like the boggarts he had been practicing against. Following their lead, Conner had drawn out his wand and held it alertly. But James could tell Conner hadn’t a clue what to do next.  
          “Seriously,” continued Rose undeterred by Albus’ faith. “If James can’t turn them we’ll need saving too! Perhaps we should avoid the dementors and get help!” Rose persisted.  
          “Too late,” announced James. “They’ve spotted us!” And indeed one of the dementors, he counted six total, had already broken off circling and headed straight towards them; the others followed close behind.  
          “Remember, think happy thoughts!” James reminded aloud. Both Rose and Albus had been around when dad was teaching the spell. Neither had yet succeeded in creating a patronus but that wouldn’t stop them from trying. “Ready?” James called as an intense cold swept over him piercing every part of his body. He aimed his wand at the fast approaching dementors and shouted, _“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_ Out of his wand burst a dazzling silver stag! It headed straight towards the nearest dementor. The stag threw up its head and the tips of its silvery antlers pierced the gray of the dementor and the creature veered swiftly off.  
_“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_ shouted Albus and a second stag, smaller than James’, suddenly leaped into view heading towards the second dementor.  
_“Expecto Patronum!”_ shouted Rose and then Conner. From the corner of his eye James saw a silvery mist erupt from their wands, but no animal.  
          The second dementor fell back when confronted by Albus’ stag. James sent his stag towards the third dementor; if flew off hastily. Soon all six dementors had retreated flying swiftly from view. The air grew warm again. James lowered his wand in relief and his stag suddenly vanished.  
          “Hey! I did it!” exclaimed Albus with surprise. He lowered his wand. The second stag abruptly vanished.  
          “Of course you did!” agreed James proudly. The Patronus spell was difficult to begin with, so for Albus to successfully accomplish it during his third year—that was good—really good! James wasn’t surprised, though, not really. Albus was lousy at divination and transfiguration, but he had been working like a demon on defensive spells ever since the holidays.  
          “Oooh!” groaned Conner. “I feel terrible!”  
          “Chocolate helps,” said Rose unsympathetically. She didn’t look too good either but James knew Rose would never complain, especially not in front of Conner and Albus. James suspected Rose didn’t like Conner much. Too bad. Conner could be annoying, but he had a lot of guts to face down a Dementor like that.  
          “Good to know!” replied Conner with a moan. “Got any?”  
          “No. Granddad says it’s bad for my teeth.” The carriage pulled to a stop next to the other carriage. James could see several still forms inside.  
          “Bully for your teeth!” retorted Conner. “I’ll take chocolate and cavities any day!”  
          “Come on!” urged James putting a stop to their bickering. “Let’s check the others!” He stowed his wand and got out of the carriage. Albus swiftly dismounted and joined him. Rose and Conner followed.  
          There were five Hufflepuff students in the carriage, all slumped over in their seats and deathly still.  
          “They’re alive!” pronounced Rose.  
          James breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s get them to the Infirmary,” he suggested and started lifting the nearest one, Mickey.  
          “Holly!” exclaimed Albus suddenly.  
          “What?”  
          “Where’s Holly?”  
          “Huh?”  
          “Mark and Becky are here,” explained Albus. “Holly is always with them. So, where’s Holly?”  
          “Perhaps she stayed behind,” James said hopefully though felt his body grow cold with fear. “Had a meeting with Wizard Pilkington or something…” he added hopefully.  Not that he really believed she had. Holly would have mentioned it when they were together earlier. Besides, Holly was always with Mark and Becky and they would have waited for her if something like that was going on. Without a word Albus held up a wand. James recognized it instantly as Holly’s. “She’s got her!” James stated flatly and guilt flooded his body.  
_“Holly’s still in danger!”_ his dad had written. _“Watch out for her!”_ But James had thoughtlessly assumed Holly would be safe enough with her Hufflepuff friends. He should have done more!  
          “Look!” said Conner and he pointed to the ground near the carriage.  
          James looked and saw fresh gouges that looked like scuff marks. Deciding swiftly, James drew out his wand. “Conner!” James said with determination. “You go for Madam Pomfrey! Albus, you get the Headmistress and Rose, you stay with the carriage until help arrives.  
          “What about you?” questioned Rose.  
          “I’m going to follow these tracks!”  
          “NO!” exclaimed Albus stubbornly. “I’m going with you! Conner can go for Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall!”  
          “No!” argued James. “It would be faster if you both went.”  
          “Actually,” interrupted Rose. “I was thinking it would be better if we _all_ went after Holly!”  
          “Huh?” James looked at Rose with surprise.  
          “This Witch Umbridge once headed the Muggle Born Registration Commission,” Rose explained. She had? Clearly Rose had done a bit of research after Holly had mentioned the name. “So she’s no slouch when it comes to magic so it may take all of us to stop her! Unfortunately,” Rose added hesitantly, “someone’s got to go for help and I don’t think we should leave these students alone until that help arrives…”  
           James stared at Rose in disbelief. Had she just agreed with Albus? “Right!” agreed James quickly out loud before Rose changed her mind. Time was of the essence. “Albus, you come with me and Conner, uh, you know what to do! We’ll see you later!” Without waiting for a response. James started down the path following the tracks.

********************

         “Where now?” asked Albus when the scuff marks abruptly stopped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
         James peered into the forest and could see no evidence of any sort that the two had entered—no scuff marks, upturned leaves, broken branches, nothing! James was certain that was the way they had gone, but it was dangerous entering the forest without knowing where you were going. James lifted his wand, shouted _“_ _Homenum Revelio_!” and waved his wand slowly from one side to the other. To his intense relief, the tip of his wand began to glow a bright green. Someone was in there! Not only that, but James now knew which direction to go! “Come on!” he told Albus in a low voice. “Quietly,” he added knowing that his Homenum Revelio spell didn’t have that far of a range.  
         Together the two boys entered the forest. James led, holding his wand out focusing on its green glow. Albus followed closely behind. Suddenly James stopped and held up a hand for Albus to stop too. He had heard something! Listening, he heard voices, one voice, actually.  
         “Give it to me!” an unfamiliar female voice demanded. “I order you! _Imperio!_ ”  
         Creeping closer James saw stout squat elderly lady with short curly brown-gray hair. It had to be Witch Umbridge! She fit Holly’s description with that pink headband, pink business suit and matching pink shoes. A pink purse lay on the ground nearby. One stubby ring covered hand held a wand and the other hand gripped Holly tightly by the arm. Holly wasn’t moving. She sat crumpled on the ground kept upright only because of the arm the witch held and by leaning against the witch's legs.  
         “Speak to me, you silly girl!” the Witch Umbridge commanded. Then she pointed her wand threateningly at Holly and said _“Cruc—”_  
         **_“EXPELLIARMUS!”_** shouted Albus suddenly while stepping out from behind James.  
           The wand flew out of Witch Umbridge’s hand. “Let got of her!” Albus added in a commanding voice while aiming his wand at the witch. To James’ horror, instead of letting go, Witch Umbridge reached down with her now wandless hand, took hold of Holly by her other arm, under the armpit, and pulled the non-resisting girl up in front of her. Then, using Holly as a shield, Witch Umbridge calmly began to move towards her fallen wand!  
           James stepped hurriedly forward and grabbed the witch’s wand. Then he pointed his own wand at Witch Umbridge. “Let her go!” he said adding his own voice to Albus while placing the witch’s wand securely in his pocket.  
           “Not until I get what I’ve come for!” the witch said grimly pulling Holly’s body up even higher wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her in place.  Holly's head lolled to one side swinging limply with the jerking motions  
           “She hasn’t got whatever you want!” Albus said firmly. “Let her go!”  
           “Oh, but she has!” the witch replied. “She just doesn’t know it!” and she gave a broad smile that revealed her sharp pointy teeth. “Perhaps you can help,” she added hopefully. “Do you know where she happens to keep her spare keys?”  
           “Uh…” James didn’t know what to say. He knew what Witch Umbridge was after but should he tell her where it went?  
           “Holly doesn’t have any spare keys!” stated Albus boldly.  
           “Of course she does!” argued Witch Umbridge. “She told me so herself! But where is it? And don’t give me a line about how she handed it off to some portrait!” the witch continued. “I understand it was a pretty bit of acting but that’s _not_ the key I’m after! It’s a Gringotts key I want and everyone knows you can’t transfigure a Gringotts key!”  
           James stared. That was true! Gringotts keys were made by Goblins and resistant to wizard magic.  He’d never thought about it but Holly shouldn’t have been able to give that key to Ariana, yet she had. He’d seen her do it himself! Aloud, James said, “Holly doesn’t tell us where she puts things!”  
           “No,” mused the witch. “I don’t suppose she does. But I know someone she does talk to, someone who would know… He can be terribly stubborn, though!” Witch Umbridge continued thoughtfully. “It’s fortunate you’re here to help me convince him otherwise…” She looked at James with her bulging eyes and smiled a broad toothy smile. It gave him the creeps.  
           “I’m not going to help you!” denied James with sudden comprehension.  
           “I think you will,” Witch Umbridge disagreed and she continued to smile, a predatory smile reminding James of a cat toying with her prey.

           **_“EXPELLIARMUS!”_**            

           James’ wand went flying into the air. He looked with shock from Witch Umbridge to Albus. Albus’s wand was pointed directly at James! “Albus!” whispered James in horror and disbelief. Albus did not reply. He looked calmly at James and his wand never once wavered.    
           “My, my!” Witch Umbridge said with a little girlish giggle. “Perhaps you should rethink those hasty words of yours. James looked back at Witch Umbridge and saw her pull her hand out from behind Holly’s back. In it was a wand! Holly’s wand! The one James had seen Holly use while on the train and it was pointed directly at Albus! “Better yet, we should take this discussion somewhere more private, less out in the open! But first, my wand: toss it over here,” she said sweetly. “NOW!” Witch Umbridge added, the features of her wide flabby face hardened menacingly.  
           Sick with fear, James reluctantly drew out the witch’s wand and tossed it—not towards Witch Umbridge as instructed, but away, out of reach of all of them. The witch frowned at his defiance. “Come over here and give me a hand with this girl!” the witch ordered James.  
           James stood rooted to the ground. It was an _Imperius Curse!_ It had to be! Albus wouldn’t have done it otherwise! Couldn’t have!  
           “NOW!” commanded Witch Umbridge in that hard cold voice.  
           James didn’t move. “I won’t help you!” he told the witch.  
           Then Witch Umbridge smiled that toothy smile again. She turned her head and looked at Albus. “I can make him hurt himself!” she threatened softly. “Have him climb to the top of that redwood tree and jump off like a Roc without any broom! (Oh, my! He’d land like a “rock” too, don’t you think? Or an egg and go “splat!”) She giggled at the jokes she’d made. Then the witch got deadly serious. “He’ll do it for me,” she added confidently looking back at James. “Happily. I just have to say the word!”  
           James gulped. “You wouldn’t,” he insisted. “He’d die!”  
           “One less Potter,” she shrugged. “I don’t need all of you,” Witch Umbridge continued persuasively. “In fact, perhaps it’d be best to leave him behind as a message to show how serious I am. _Come ... over ... here!”_ she ordered coldly. James looked again at Albus and reluctantly forced his legs to walk towards the witch. “Very good,” purred Witch Umbridge all smiles again. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” she added as James drew near. “Now, take her legs.”  
           “What are you planning to do?” questioned James stalling for time. “Conner’s gone for help. You can’t Apparate out and there’s no way you can get us all away before they’ll find us. You’re only making things worse for yourself!”  
           “Let me worry about that,” said Witch Umbridge still smiling. “Take her legs!”  
           James reluctantly bent down. “What’d you do to her?” he asked as he picked up Holly’s legs. They were heavy, awkward and uncooperative in his arms. Holly’s whole body seemed to slide down to the ground. James looked up and saw that the Witch had released her hold on Holly’s waist but still held a tight grip on her arm.  
           “I didn’t do anything to her!” snorted the witch with disgust. “She was this way when I pulled her off the carriage!”  
           James stopped what he was doing and looked up. “You sent the dementors!” he exclaimed suddenly. “How could you send dementors after Holly?” James demanded.  He well remembered the fear he had seen in Holly’s eyes at the beginning of the year at the mere mention of dementors.  
           “How else was I to separate her from that gaggle of Hufflepuffs she’s always with?” replied Witch Umbridge without concern. “Put her arm over your shoulder and stand up.” James put Holly’s arm over his shoulders and tried to stand. He staggered under her weight and Witch Umbridge stepped back keeping from James’ immediate reach. “I had no idea she’d behave like this!” the witch continued with annoyance while keeping her wand firmly aimed at Albus. “The girl’s loonier than Albus!”  
           “Albus is not crazy!” exclaimed James with emotion.  
           “Of course he is!” argued Witch Umbridge reasonably. “He thinks he sees thestrals!”  
           “He can!”  
           “The boy imagines he saw his dad die in a magic mirror! _Please!_ I mean it’s a great idea, but even _I _don’t let my fantasies interfere with reality!”__  
            James stopped what he was doing and stared at the witch. “How did you—?”  
           “Your brother and I had a nice little chat a while back,” Witch Umbridge told him smugly. “He was quite informative. Didn’t he tell you? No? Oh, well. Clearly his memory is a bit spotty, too! And while I agree with the sentiment, I won’t even begin to speculate why a thirteen-year-old boy would so desperately want his dad dead that he convinces himself he can see thestrals to confirm it! Personally I think it’s more than a bit disturbing, don’t you?”  
           “How dare you!” sputtered James, total anger replacing his previous fear.  
           “I dare because I _can,_ Potter,” replied Witch Umbridge coldly. “And you would do well to remember who holds the wand if you wish to stay in good health…”

           **_“EXPELLIARMUS!”_**   

           The wand suddenly flew from Witch Umbridge’s hand! “Excellent advice!” came Albus’ firm voice. “Get Holly away from her!”  
            James didn’t hesitate and pulled Holly from Witch Umbridge’s grip dragging the girl away as far and as fast as possible. Then he ventured a look at Albus. Albus still stood in the same place but now his wand was pointed firmly at Witch Umbridge.  
           “Did you really think I would _ever_ let myself be caught under the influence of an _Imperious Curse_ again?” he asked Witch Umbridge. His voice trembled with emotion. “If dad can resist the curse then so can I! How’s Holly?” he added asking James without taking his eyes off Witch Umbridge.  
           “Not good,” James replied honestly giving Holly a close look for the first time. Holly’s unblinking eyes were open and strands of blonde hair stuck to her damp face. James gently closed her eyes and straightened her body so she looked more comfortable. Then he stood. “We’d best get her to the Infirm—”    
           _"Don’t try it!”_ Albus suddenly warned. James looked over at Witch Umbridge. One foot was lifted and held frozen in the air. “I’ve practiced a dozen jinxes and hexes to use on the person who _set me up!”_ continued Albus. “Just give me a reason!” he dared.  
           “Now, now,” said Witch Umbridge with that girlish giggle as she put her foot carefully back in place. “No need to get so upset. This is all a big misunderstanding.”  
           “I doubt that!” replied Albus coldly.  
           “You had me worried,” James told Albus in a casual voice. He left Holly’s side and walked swiftly to where the wands had fallen. He hastened to pick them up, all of them. No need to leave temptation in sight.  
           “I was worried too!” admitted Albus never taking his eyes off Witch Umbridge. “Worried I couldn’t do it, worried she wouldn’t buy it!”  
           James returned to stand protectively near Holly. He kept a firm hold of the two wands while pointing his own at Witch Umbridge. “What do we do with her?” he asked Albus. Holly had said Witch Umbridge had framed Albus and after that lady’s comments about dad’s “death,” James had no doubts of the witch’s guilt. It was only fair Albus made the decisions.  
           “Witch Umbridge?” came the stern voice of Headmistress McGonagall. “What are you doing in this forest?” Headmistress McGonagall came into view. Her wand was out ready for use, pointed directly at Witch Umbridge.  
           “Why, uh,” Witch Umbridge sounded flustered by the question. Then she suddenly stiffened. “These ruffians accosted me and forced me into the forest while I was on the way to your office on Ministry business!” she suddenly accused. “I demand you discipline them immediately!”  
           James stared in disbelief! How could she lie like that and yet sound so convincing? “That’s not what happened—” he began.  
          “That’s enough Mr. Potter,” cut off the Headmistress. Witch Umbridge smiled at the rebuke. James felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. “Witch Umbridge,” Headmistress McGonagall added sternly. “Given the recent difficulties Hogwarts has had with uninvited intruders, Minister Shacklebolt himself assured me that there would be no Ministry visits without prior announcement. I received no owl concerning you.”  
          “Well!” huffed Witch Umbridge. “I can’t be held responsible for the inefficiencies of lesser Ministry employees. Besides, wasn’t all that intruder nonsense resolved by that Crowley girl?”  
          “She did confess,” admitted Headmistress McGonagall evenly. “However, we discovered some inconsistencies in her story that have yet to be resolved.”  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes. Nothing I can discuss, of course,” the Headmistress added smoothly. “Things are still under investigation, but until I can resolve the inconsistencies to my satisfaction, special precautions have to be taken for all unexpected visitors on the Hogwarts campus. If you would accompany me to my office, I’m sure we can get this cleared up in no time.”  
          “You doubt me?” demanded Witch Umbridge imperiously.  
          “It’s merely a security precaution,” replied the Headmistress calmly. “And one that I must insist upon. You may walk with us or shall I be forced to stun you first?” Her wand never wavered from its aim at Witch Umbridge.  
          “You wouldn’t dare!”  
          “I would,” came the serene voice of Professor Lovegood stepping into view from in back of Witch Umbridge. The witch jumped visibly at her presence.  
          “And I,” assured Professor Longbottom. He came into view across from the other side. The Headmistress, Professor Lovegood and Professor Longbottom stood in a triangle around Witch Umbridge. Conner appeared and stood next to Professor Longbottom. His wand was fixed on Witch Umbridge and his blue-gray eyes never left her face as if he was trying to memorize every feature of it.  
          “ _Four_ times, if necessary,” Headmistress McGonagall added and there was a hard glint in her eye that James had never before seen. Witch Umbridge seemed to start at that suggestion.  
          “Or more!” added Albus coldly. His eyes had never once wavered from Witch Umbridge despite all the arrivals.  
          Witch Umbridge looked around at the grim faces surrounding her. James was certain none of them, himself included, would hesitate to cast a stunning spell. “Uh, no, that won’t be necessary,” she said with dignity, “I can walk. And when this is all cleared up, I shall expect an apology from all of you, _in writing!”_ she took a step forward, looked around and then stopped. “I think I’ll uh, just get my purse first,” she told the group and veered to the right in the direction of her pink purse. It was lying on the leaves only a couple of meters away. There was something about the witch, her determined step, her posture, that smile on her face as she bent down for her purse that didn’t seem quite right.  
          “NO!” James suddenly shouted. “Don’t let her touch the—!” But it was too late. Witch Umbridge took hold of the purse strap and suddenly vanished!  
          “A portkey,” mused Professor Lovegood softly. “Interesting,” she added as she returned her wand to her pocket.  
          “I would say that constitutes suspicious behavior. Wouldn’t you?” said Professor Longbottom cheerfully. “Perhaps even guilt!”  
          “I would indeed,” agreed the Headmistress briskly. “Would one of those wands in your pocket happen to be Witch Umbridge’s, Mr. Potter?”  
          “What? Oh, yeah,” replied James looking down at the wands in his pocket.  
          “Excellent! Take good care of it. When we have time, I think it would be very interesting to see what kind of spells Dolores has been casting. Very interesting indeed… I shall expect a full report from both of you after we get Miss Wycliff to the Infirmary.  
          James immediately looked down at Holly. It looked as if she hadn’t moved from where he placed her, not one bit.  
          “I brought Holly some chocolate,“ said Conner, “but…” his voice trailed off as he looked at her still form.  
          “She should have wakened by now,” said Professor Lovegood with concern.  
          “Witch Umbridge said she didn’t do anything to Holly, that she was like this at the carriage,” informed James.   
          “You believe her?”  
          James took a deep breath while he stared at Holly. “Yeah,” he replied reluctantly. “Unfortunately, I do. Holly was afraid of dementors when she first got to Hogwarts. Real afraid.”  
          “It’s a flashback?” questioned Professor Lovegood looking up at James with her silvery eyes.  
          “I think so,” James admitted.  
          “Then let’s hope Madam Pomfrey will know what to do about it,” said Professor Longbottom as he scooped Holly up in his arms.  
          James nodded. He hoped so too… And he followed the Professor back to the castle.

 ********************

          “James?”  
          James looked up. “Lily!” he said with surprise. “What are you doing here?”  
          “Looking for you!” she replied firmly as she stepped into the Infirmary. “All of you!” she added sounding clearly upset.  
          “Oh.”  
          “You missed dinner!” Lily announced.  
          “Oh, yeah,” replied James rather guiltily.  
          “I waited for you!” Lily accused. “The whole time!”  
          “Sorry about that,” James mumbled. “We should have let you know…” They always had dinner together after a day in Hogsmeade. It was a way to keep Lily from feeling so left out… But after the dementors and stuff, nobody had really thought much about food. James dimly remembered Madam Pomfrey passing out some sandwiches at some point and insisting they eat so he guessed they had, but honestly, he couldn’t remember what he had eaten, if anything...  
          “And then I went looking for you!” Lily added. “Everywhere!”  
          “Sorry,” James repeated guiltily. “We sort of forgot…”  
          “Do you know how I finally found out?” Lily continued. “Conner! He said he thought you might still be with Holly! And I had to _find_ him to ask! Couldn’t you have at least left someone with a message for me?” she demanded. “And when I was coming here, I heard the Hufflepuffs talking about the Dementor attack and Richards talking to the other Slytherins about how Wycliff was definitely a chip off the “Potter” block—worse around dementors than the “great” Harry Potter had been! _Richards!_ Even the Slytherins knew before me!”  
          “You’re right,” admitted James regretfully. “We should have told you. But we were kind of distracted…”  
          “She’s _my_ cousin too!” Lily practically shouted. “Didn’t you think I’d want to know? Want to be here? Want to help?”  
          “Give it a rest!” said Albus with annoyance. He was clearly tired. They all were. “James forgot, Rose forgot, I forgot; we all forgot; O.K.? And we’re sorry! We should of told you, but didn’t. Sorry. But we’re kind of busy here.”  
          “I know you feel hurt and left out, Lily,” added Rose in a conciliatory voice, “but now that you’re here you can still help. Why don’t you put your signature on this letter.”  
          “What’s that?” Lily demanded looking suspiciously at the parchment Rose shoved her way.  
          “It’s a letter asking Wizard Pilkington to come,” explained Albus.  
          “That’s it?” said Lily in disbelief looking over at Holly.  
          “That’s all for now,” James admitted while reaching over and signing his own name to the letter. The letter also asked if Wizard Pilkington could, without explaining why, arrange for Wizard Flint to come too. They knew Wizard Flint had terrorized Holly, but at this point, even a negative reaction would be better than none… “We’ve tried pretty much everything else we can think of to do here…” James added.  
          “How will writing Wizard Pilkington help?” Lily asked bluntly as she took the quill and signed her name.  
          “Well,” began James, “it turns out that Wizard Pilkington has had more experience than the rest of us in talking Holly out of her flashbacks so we’re hoping he’ll have some ideas we haven’t yet tried…”  
          Holly hadn’t move a millimeter on her own since Professor Longbottom placed her in that bed and drew up the covers but not for lack of effort on their part. The group had spent all their time trying to wake her. So far, nothing had succeeded. Talking to Holly had worked on the train. But this time, no amount of talking had elicited a response from her. James had placed Holly’s wand, the one she got from the Headmaster, in her hand. He curled Holly’s fingers around it but the wand clattered to the ground the moment James let go of her hand.  
          Then a lengthy discussion followed as to what to try next. Madam Pomfrey pulled out a summary of all the other known flashback experiences for them to review while Becky went to the dorm and fetched Holly’s journal. Becky brought Sasha back with her. Sasha had lovingly jumped on top of Holly and purred loudly but to no avail. Then the group poured over the journal and summaries looking for clues for what to try next.  
          Reasoning that Holly’s mind was trapped somewhere in the Tom Riddle world, they decided that maybe Holly could _only_ hear or respond to people she had encountered then.  Accordingly, James had gotten Ravindra, and Becky got Mrs. Figg. But their presence and voices caused no difference in Holly’s behavior. Mrs. Figgs’ five cats all jumped onto the bed with Sasha and began to purr loudly. Six cats showered Holly with affection but she did not respond.  
          Ravindra had gotten Richards and Paige, (still under “House Arrest,”) into the Infirmary on the pretext of asking some prefect-related questions. While they talked, Richards had taken one look at Holly on the bed “sleeping” with six cats on top and Mrs. Figg seated nearby holding Holly’s hand and immediately asked if it had anything to do with the dementor attack they had heard about. "None of your business!" snapped Albus and Rose instantly but clearly the damage had been done. Ravindra and Richards talked for several minutes. The two eventually left without creating the slightest response from Holly.  
          The group intended to drop off the letter for Wizard Pilkington at the Owlery if their trip to the Room of Requirement didn’t work. The Room of Requirement was Mark’s idea. If the room had managed to help Holly get her memories back, then perhaps it could provide them with a way to help Holly now… Rose was doubtful. She was certain the room would meet _their_ needs, but not necessarily _Holly’s_ needs…  
          Privately, James worried that nothing would bring Holly out of it this time. Without some sort of response from Holly they were only guessing and had no clear idea how to proceed. James feared having to face dad with the news of what happened to Holly and how they failed to protect her.  
          Lily walked over to Holly. “Don’t worry,” she told the still form while reaching out to stroke Sasha. “It’s going to be O.K. You’re going to be O.K.” Then Lily pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket and began to unfold it.  
          “What’s that?” asked Albus.  
          “A song,” she replied.  
          “You want to sing her a song?” questioned Rose. “Forget it. We already tried singing.” Becky had suggested it. After settling on a song they all knew, the group had diligently sung. Unfortunately, Becky was the only one who could sing on key. If Holly had been dead, their singing would have surely wakened her. But Holly wasn’t dead and remained unmoved by the racket they made in the name of music.  
          “Not this song,” said Lily with confidence.  
          “What makes it so special?” asked James curiously.  
          “I got it from dad!” she replied simply.  
          “You wrote dad?” questioned Albus sharply. “When’d you do that?”  
          “Not today, silly,” said Lily. “It was a while ago. I asked dad what I could do to help Holly. He told me about this song. He said that listening to it had helped Holly once. Dad thought it might be a good song for me to learn, just in case. At the very least, he thought Holly would enjoy singing it with me.”  
          “Song? What song?” asked Mark. “I don’t remember Holly mentioning any song.”  
          “She didn’t,” confirmed Becky, “but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. Holly only told us the basics of what happened those three days. I’m sure there was a lot she left out.”  
          “Well,” sighed Albus. “Go ahead and give your song a try. But don’t feel too bad if it doesn’t work. I don’t think Holly knows any of us are here.”  
          Lilly nodded. She took a deep breath and began, _“There’ll be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see.”_  
          “Oh, I recognize that song,” interrupted Mrs. Figg excitedly. “I used to hear it all the time when I was young. Can I see the words? Perhaps I could sing it with you…”  
          Lily obligingly held the parchment out in front of Mrs. Figg and stood behind and off to the side so she could see the words too. “I’ll start over,” she told Mrs. Figg. “Ready?” Mrs. Figg nodded and Lily began again, _“There’ll be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see.”_ Mrs. Figg joined in, _“There’ll be love and laughter and peace ever-after, tomorrow, when the world is free.”_ Together, the two continued to sing. It was a pretty melody, not at all like the last song the group had sung.  
          “That sounded nice,” said James politely when they had finished. “So dad taught you that?” James asked not because he really wanted to know but mostly to distract Lily from the obvious, that Holly still hadn’t moved or spoken. It was too bad too, Lily had seemed so confident the song would make things better.  
          “No,” admitted Lily. “He didn’t even know the name, not really. He just knew it was a World War II song that had “Dover” and “bluebirds” in it. He said it was apparently sung several times and Holly felt lots better afterwards. Aunt Hermione took me to a Muggle library to look it up. We found the words and the notes,” continued Lily. “And Professor Flitwick helped me learn the tune,” she added proudly.  
          “It _is_ pretty,” mused Becky, “but kind of short. Several times you say?” she added thoughtfully. Lily nodded. “Perhaps we should sing it a few more times too. Just to give it a proper chance.” She walked over to the two and leaned over Lily’s shoulder to see the words and notes. “It doesn’t look too hard...”  
          “Ready?” asked Lily.  
          “Ready,” replied Becky. And they began to sing again. And again, and again and again. By the fourth time, James was able to hum along and join in here and there.  
          Lily kind of faltered after the sixth time, “Holly!” she moaned in despair. “Why won’t you wake up?”  
          “It’s O.K. dear,” said Mrs. Figg soothingly. “You tried your best; that’s the important part. We’ll figure out some other way to bring her back. No, Sasha,” Mrs. Figg added reprovingly. “I don’t think you should be licking Holly’s face, do you?” Her hand reached out to pull Sasha away. “Oh!” came a sudden gasp.  
          James looked up at Mrs. Figg with sudden interest. “What?” he questioned. “What is it?”  
          “Her cheeks!” exclaimed Mrs. Figg excitedly.  
          “What about her cheeks?” asked Albus drawing closer with equal interest.  
          “They’re wet! I’m sure of it!”  
          “Wet?” said Becky blankly. “Sasha?”  
          “No, not Sasha,” said Mrs. Figg excitedly. “Tears! I’m certain of it!”  
          “Tears?” questioned Lily. She reached out a finger and touched Holly’s cheek lightly. When she removed the finger James could see that both Holly’s cheek and Lily’s finger seemed to glisten wetly. “Tears!” Lily exclaimed elatedly. “Oh, she heard us! She must have! We’ve got to keep singing! I know it!”  
          And so they sang. Everyone joined in! Even Madam Pomfrey came over to sing. They all sang and sang and sang. James lost count how many times they sang the song, but Lily wouldn’t let them quit, not now.  
          Suddenly, Holly's whole body sort of shuttered! Her hand tightened around Mrs. Figg’s and her other hand reached out to stroke Sasha. Then her eyes flickered open.  
          “Hey!” greeted James with relief. “Welcome back.”  
          Holly’s green eyes solemnly regarded the group of people surrounding her. “I was alone!” she finally whispered. “All alone! Everyone was gone! Dead! And I wanted to die too! Then these people on the train, they wouldn’t let me give up! They were all strangers and I just wanted to die but they wouldn’t let me!” Holly thoughtfully looked around at the Potters, her friends, Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Figg. Then she added softly, “I don’t think they were strangers, not really. I don’t at all! Thank you!” she whispered. “Thank you for not letting me give up!”  
          “I think Lily deserves most of the credit for that,” said James giving his little sister an affectionate hug. Trust dad to find a way to make sure the family stayed together for the important things.  
          “Lily?” Holly’s green eyes sought out Lily, who flushed with pleasure at the recognition.  
          “Yeah,” continued James dryly. “She had this song she wanted to share with you.”  
          “Song?”  
          “Song,” said James firmly. “Want to hear it?” He could almost sense Albus’ eyes rolling upwards at the suggestion but didn’t care. Somehow it seemed right to sing it again with Holly.  
          “Sure,” said Holly with a smile. Her eyes seemed to glisten.  
          And so they sang it again, this time with Holly joining in. As they were finishing, Madam Pomfrey slipped out and came back with a tray carrying a huge pot and some cups and saucers. “I think this calls for a celebration!” she told the group. “Hot chocolate, anyone?”


	52. Chapter 52

          “Mr. Potter?” said Professor Longbottom as he dismissed the class.  
          “Yes, sir?”  
          “Would you please remain behind to help clean up?” The Herbology exam had consisted of a tedious session of identifying various plants and their uses and then a practical portion wrestling with venomous cobra plants and snap dragon vines. Consequently, the room was a major mess. Milking cobra plants for their venom was particularly difficult as the plants kept spitting defensively at the students while they worked. The room was covered with cobra spit spots. The snap dragon vines had fought the students vigorously during their efforts to transplant them into more suitable sized containers. Still rather young, the snap dragon flowers had only coughed out small heated puffs of smoke that felt like sharp sparks of electricity, but their moving tendrils had grabbed anything and everything possible scattering dirt everywhere!  
          “Yes, sir,” replied Albus.  
          That meant Holly, Mark and Becky had to remain behind too. After the dementor attack, the Hufflepuffs had a special meeting where they decided that Holly should not go outdoors without being accompanied by someone who could cast a Patronus spell, just in case. It wasn’t a major inconvenience, as everyone already knew Albus could cast one. He was in all Holly’s outdoor classes. So it was an easy matter to arrange to meet with Albus before going to class.  
          Albus had straightened with pride once he learned why Holly wanted him to join them to and from class. “There were so many dementors I wasn’t sure I could do any good,” he confided. “But I knew what would happen if I didn’t so I tried anyway and it worked!”  
          “Did you really throw off an _Imperius Curse_?” asked Professor Longbottom after the rest of the students had left the green house. He handed Albus and Mark each a cloth soaked in venom neutralizer as he spoke. They began to wipe down the walls and counters. Albus and James hadn’t really talked too much about what happened with Witch Umbridge in the woods but, like everyone else at the school, Professor Longbottom had no doubt been reading the _Daily Prophet_.  
          The moment Witch Umbridge had left the woods she sent a letter to the Hogwarts Governors making a formal complaint against the Potter brothers for assault, battery, theft and unlawful detainment. She demanded the return of her property and the immediate expulsion of the Potter boys! The witch also accused Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Lovegood and Professor Longbottom of assault and unlawful detainment. She further demanded their immediate removal from their Hogwarts’ posts. Everyone knew about the letter because Witch Umbridge sent a copy of it to the _Daily Prophet._ The _Daily Prophet_ promptly printed a copy of the letter as headline news.  
          At the bottom of the article was a note stating that “Mr. Harry Potter refused to comment on the charges made against his sons…” The Slytherins tried to claim this was proof the boys were guilty, but others rapidly pointed out that Harry Potter had never responded to any articles in the _Prophet_ so his failure to respond meant nothing…  
          Headmistress McGonagall ignored Witch Umbridge’s accusations and instead wrote her own letter directly to the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She did not send a copy to the _Daily Prophet_ , but students could tell pretty much what she had written based on the front page publication in the _Daily Prophet_ the next day. It contained a copy of Witch Umbridge’s response to the Headmistress’ letter. Witch Umbridge categorically denied the charges of trespassing, assault, attempted kidnapping and repeated use of an _Imperius Curse_. She refused to present herself to the Board claiming its members were clearly biased in favor of the Potters. In addition, Witch Umbridge demanded Harry Potter resign from his position on the Board as his character and that of his family were clearly lacking “proper morals.” She further added, “If I had wanted to use an _Imperius Curse_ against a couple of third year students (which I did not), it would not have been an “attempt;” they would have obeyed without question!”  
          “Yes, sir, I think so,” replied Albus in reference to Professor Longbottom’s _Imperius Curse_ question. “I mean, I felt this urge and knew what she wanted me to do,” he added. “I was able to say “no” and throw off the spell just like dad and I practiced,” he explained proudly. “Then I said to myself “why not?”  
          “Why not?”  
          “Yes, I realized Witch Umbridge must still have a wand but I couldn’t get at it to disarm her while she was using Holly as a shield.”  
          “That was a big risk don’t you think?” commented Professor Longbottom as he straightened and rearranged the rows of newly potted plants.  
          “True,” agreed Albus as he put away the venom neutralizer and started collecting the empty pots, “but what else could I do? If I didn’t disarm James like she wanted, she’d know her curse had failed then she’d use her wand to threaten Holly and make us _both_ give up our wands! I could only hope she’d let her guard down enough for me to disarm her later…”  
          Holly felt herself warm at this. She couldn’t remember anything after the real dementor broke through the flashback dementors. The thought that she’d been so helpless and had put her cousins in such danger was most distressing. Albus stacked the emptied pots on one of the shelves.  
          “Weren’t you afraid she’d find out?” questioned Becky while she rinsed off and hung the aprons.  
          “Yeah,” agreed Albus as he brushed the dirt off that had fallen from the pots onto his clothes. “I had no idea what a person under the _Imperius Curse_ looked like from the outside. But I reasoned it couldn’t be too different from a regular person as from all accounts, nobody can ever tell when someone has been cursed. It must have worked. Umbridge had her wand pointed at me but all her attention was on James after I disarmed him. It was hard to keep a straight face after she threatened to send me up the tree, though.” Albus frowned at the memory. Then he added, “Mostly, I was afraid Umbridge would give me a nonverbal order I didn’t know about and realize I wasn’t under her spell. Fortunately, that didn’t happen.”  
          “All of it was very well done!” said Professor Longbottom approvingly. “James said he was totally fooled! Clearly Witch Umbridge was too. But you’d best be very careful now,” he added seriously. “No matter what Umbridge says in public, you and she both know the truth. You were merely a means to an ends before, Albus,” Professor Longbottom continued thoughtfully, “but now you’ve embarrassed her and it’s become personal! She’ll never forgive or forget this!”  
          “I know, sir,” said Albus soberly. “Dad already wrote me. “But with all this publicity, do you really think Witch Umbridge will be back?”  
          “She still wants something from Holly, doesn’t she?” Professor Longbottom reminded him. “We’ve some new security features in place, but Witch Umbridge has proven very resourceful. Yes, I think there’s a very good chance she’ll return…”

*******************

          “Do you see any dementors?” asked Mark. The group was returning from their Herbology exam and Mark had insisted Holly go all the way to the entrance to check and see if she still saw dementors overhead at the entrance.  
          Holly took a deep breath, clutched Becky’s hand tightly and then looked up. All she saw was empty blue skies. “No!” she said with surprise and relief. “I don’t!”  
          “Thought so!” said Mark with satisfaction. “I had a feeling that seeing the actual thing would chase the flashback out of your mind! One less flashback for you to worry about! You’re making progress! Next year, mind you,” he added grimly. “We are going to take some serious lessons on how to cast a Patronus spell! Once with those things was enough!”  
          “You said it!” agreed Becky shivering unconsciously. “Dementors are nasty! And you encountered them several times?” she added to Holly in disbelief. “No wonder the thought of them upset you so. However did you manage?”  
          “I got lucky!” said Holly bluntly. “Real lucky.”  
          “I’m hungry,” said Albus. “Come on.” He turned towards the docks as did everyone else.  
          Holly watched them walk. She was hungry as well, tired too. Then she thought about what Professor Longbottom had said earlier.Holly shivered at the thought of another encounter with Witch Umbridge. Witch Umbridge had been watching Holly all year. She knew all the back routes Holly used to avoid the stairs—all those dark lonely isolated passages...  
          “Hey,” Holly called out suddenly. “Hold up!” They stopped and looked back questioningly at her. “It’s not that far from here to the Great Hall. I can take it!” she told them.  
          “You sure?” asked Becky worriedly.  
          “I’m sure,” said Holly confidently. Suddenly Pettigrew’s squeaky voice seemed the least of her problems with Witch Umbridge looming out there somewhere… “Lookit!” Holly began, “It’s late; we’re all tired and hungry. I just don’t feel up to a long hike around and about…” And to prove her point, she strode confidently forward.  
_“You just come along with me, Missy!”_ came Pettigrew’s cheerful voice.  
          “Oh, hush up!” Holly told the voice in her head impatiently and took another step. And another step… Holly froze in uncertainty. For there was no accompanying Pettigrew voice! Cautiously, Holly took another step forward. Still no sound!  
_“Not totally!”_ Holly said to herself suddenly. _“Just lower it down a bit.”_ She took another step.    
_“…real special someone!”_ Pettigrew’s gloating whisper suddenly sounded in her ear. It was loud, but not as loud as before.  
_“Lower!”_ Holly commanded herself and took another step.  
_“…Someone I know would just love to see you!”_  
_“Lower!”_ Holly repeated.  
_“Now just keep those legs moving, Missy!”_ Pettigrew commanded in a voice so soft Holly could imagine it as mere background noise.  
_“Perfect!”_ said Holly to herself with a smile and took another step. She was rewarded by the same level voice. Holly had suddenly realized that no matter how much she hated Pettigrew, and despite the fact he was a sneaky deceptive little rat, she didn’t totally want to get rid of Pettigrew. That would be like forgetting him! Though he had probably not intended it, Pettigrew had saved her life, not once but three times! Once from the dementors, again when he interrupted Lord Voldemort during that mind probe near the trophy room and finally on the stairs when his high squeaky voice had interrupted Witch Umbridge’s Imperius Curse. Pettigrew was a part of her now and, like her other memories, Holly valued him. _“You will get louder when I need you won’t you?”_ Holly mentally asked Pettigrew. There was no answer, of course, but Holly was certain it would happen. No _Imperius Curse_ would ever force her up the stairs.  
          “Holly?” came Becky’s worried voice. She had come up next to Holly. “Are you O.K.?”  
          “I’m fine,” answered Holly with a smile. “More than fine!”  
          “Oh?” asked Mark who had come up to stand on Holly’s other side—no doubt ready to take an elbow and help Holly forward.  
          “Pettigrew and I have come to an agreement!” Holly announced happily.  
          “Really?” said Albus curiously. “How’d you manage that?”  
          “I’ll tell you all about it at lunch,” Holly replied cheerfully. “Come on!” she told the others and skipped happily up the entrance steps.

********************

         “Thank you for coming,” said Professor Lovegood greeting Holly as she stepped through the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Holly had been surprised to receive a notice from Professor Lovegood. It was exam week but they had already completed their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Holly could only assume her presence had to do with Auror dueling. She hadn’t done a dueling exam the previous year but Mark reasoned maybe it was something the Auror students had to do more than Holly...  
          “This shouldn’t take too long,” the Professor told Holly’s friends, “I would appreciate it if you waited.” They nodded and immediately began to pull out some books from their bags. “You may wait in the classroom, if you wish,” she told the group serenely and backed up to let everyone inside. There were four today, five if you counted Holly: Mark, Becky, Susan and Mickey.  
          Mark and Becky promised to be more watchful after the attack outside the Memorial, but the Hufflepuffs decided the promises could be better kept with more help. They felt it unsafe for two to sit outside in the hall while Holly conducted whatever private business she had in the infirmary visits and during dueling lessons.  
          The Professor waited quietly while Holly’s friends got settled. Then she walked over to the large mirror. It looked as good as new despite the blasting it had received a week earlier. The Professor pointed her wand at it. The tip of the wand glowed gently and then the mirror swung out revealing the room beyond. Holly couldn’t see anyone inside, but that was to be expected. The Auror students knew Holly would not have come alone and would not have wanted to be seen by the others…  
          “Close the door after you,” instructed Professor Lovegood as she walked forward. Holly nodded. She followed the professor into the room and closed the door behind her. Then Holly turned around and found herself looking directly into the inky black eyes of Paige Crowley!

********************

          Holly reacted instantly at Paige’s unexpected appearance by drawing her wand and retreating swiftly until she bumped into the closed door behind her. Luna Lovegood responded equally quickly placing her body between the two students. Paige had no wand and it was Luna’s responsibility to insure no one was injured during this encounter.  
          “Put down your wand,” commanded Luna in as soothing a voice as possible. “There is no danger here.” Holly did not comply. But neither did she use her wand to cast a spell. She clutched her wand tightly and watched Luna warily. That was reassuring. True, the wand she held was the one she got from Headmaster Snape, but at least Holly did not freeze motionless or fall into some comatose-like state. That meant Luna was dealing with Holly of today, not Holly in the midst of some flashback memory. Holly was rather reasonable under normal circumstances.  
          “Have a seat,” Luna suggested mildly using her wand to cause a chair to slide up near Holly. Holly refused to sit. Her green eyes flickered briefly at the chair and then back at Luna. Luna did not insist. Holly had her reasons to be suspicious of Paige and Luna knew simple words would not remove that fear. Instead, Luna caused a second chair to come forward and sat down removing herself from between Holly and Paige. Luna was reasonably certain Holly would not cast a spell and if having the wand out made Holly feel better, so be it. Holly stared at Paige with wide green eyes. Paige stared back with her usual cool expressionless face.  
          “She’s afraid of me!” Paige said abruptly breaking the silence. “She should be, considering what I did to her!” Paige added as if Holly wasn’t there, wasn’t listening to every word. “But she doesn’t know about that,” Paige continued. “I made sure of it. I made the _Oblitus_ potion myself. Measured the dose and stuck the spoon in the back of her throat to make sure she wouldn’t spit any back up.” Paige fell silent, thoughtful. Holly said nothing; she stood stiffly and continued to watch Paige warily, wand in hand poised for action.  
          “You don’t ask questions!” Paige bluntly observed. “Not even now. Not one single question about that night…” Paige’s voice dropped off in thought. “Summerby says that’s because you’re either too crazy or too stupid to care about anything but your next meal.” Luna could see a faint flush of red creep up Holly’s neck at the callous words. Students from other houses often did not recognize the quiet strength of the Hufflepuffs. Paige continued, “I think it’s because you already know!” Holly did not answer.  
          “I know about that trip you made to the dungeons with Vasari and Finnegan,” Paige continued undaunted. “And you spoke to Tom. He won’t tell me what you said but I can guess; he calls you “Wycliff” now.” Paige fell silent again, her black eyes fixed steadily upon Holly. “Scarcely four hours after you woke up, you were down in the dungeons talking to Tom,” Paige continued in a thoughtful voice. “And you’re afraid…” An even longer silence followed. Paige continued to regard Holly thoughtfully and Holly, unmoving, stared back warily with those wide green eyes, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.  
          “There must have been something wrong with my potion,” Paige finally concluded aloud.  
_That_ was the problem and the reason why this meeting between Paige and Holly was so important. Paige had spoken little after declaring her innocence, not even to those trying to clear her name. She certainly hadn’t mentioned the memory loss that Luna knew came with the use of an _Imperius Curse_. In addition, what memories Paige appeared to have retained were both incomplete and inaccurate. The belief that she had lost her skills at making potions as well would be devastating.  
          “Miss Crowley received an invitation to intern with the best potion masters of Europe,” informed Luna in a soft voice. Holly’s head turned towards Luna clearly listening. “She intends to turn it down,” Luna continued calmly, “because she is of the opinion she is not worthy of such an honor…”  
          “A first year could have concocted a memory potion that lasted longer than the one I made!” retorted Paige bitterly looking down and away. “And I have no idea what I did wrong! I’m a failure! I can’t even commit a crime and escape properly! You should have let them send me to Azkaban!” Paige reflected sincerely.  
          Holly continued to stare at Paige wordlessly. After a while her tense stance seemed to ease. “There was nothing wrong with your potion,” Holly abruptly said and she sheathed her wand. “It worked just perfectly!” she told Paige. “Eight and one half hours sleep, 5 hours total memory loss and 10% random memory loss.” Luna saw Paige’s head jerk up with interest at that. Luna knew the 10% part was not part of Paige’s account or in her journal but clearly Paige knew what Holly meant. “I think the 10% part was the worse,” admitted Holly as she sat down. “Things I suddenly didn’t know but knew I should…”  
          “But how?”  
          Holly looked at Luna before speaking. Luna gave a slight nod, permission to speak of things not previously mentioned. “We were in the Room of Requirement,” explained Holly. “We had to be! I needed my memories!” Holly continued. “Really needed them. And the Room, it found a way to give them back to me.”  
          “But me?” Paige said faintly.  
          “You had no needs,” Holly informed her bluntly. “You were—happy!”  
          “Happy?” Paige looked inquisitively at Luna.  
          “I believe it is the emotion Miss Wycliff feels when one is under the influence of the _Imperius Curse_ ,” Luna explained softly.  
          “She knows the—”  
          “Yes,” affirmed Luna firmly. “She was tested after the collapse of the stands.”  
          “But that means we weren’t alone…” Paige mused wonderingly. “Who?”  
          “That is something Miss Wycliff cannot speak about,” informed Luna before Holly could answer. “We are here only to address your concerns about the potion you gave Miss Wycliff.”  
          “You won the potions contest last year,” reminded Holly reassuringly. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten any of that. In fact, I’ve heard you were a genus when it came to potions and you could show other wizards a thing or two.”  
          “Yeah,” said Paige giving a short bitter laugh, “Auntie D always says that to me too!” Then she froze! Paige looked from Holly to Luna. “Do you mean Aunti—”  
          “I think it is time you left, Miss Wycliff,” interrupted Luna quickly.  
          “Yes, ma’am,” replied Holly, her face red with embarrassment guessing, no doubt, she’d said something she shouldn’t. Holly swiftly rose and left the room.  
          Luna followed her to the door making sure Holly’s friends were still outside waiting before closing the door behind her. Then she turned to face Paige. In all the current controversy between Witch Umbridge and the Potters, not one word had been suggested to indicate that Witch Umbridge had done more than a simple trespass of Hogwarts school grounds just a few days earlier or why she had been there. There was no concrete proof of her other activities—only Holly’s memories and they couldn’t be used, not directly.  
          “Is it true?” asked Paige sharply. “Auntie D did this to me?”  
          “That,” replied Luna softly fixing her silvery eyes on Paige, “depends on how seriously you take the word of a third year student whose memories were compromised by a perfectly good dose of _Oblitus_ …”

********************

          The Daily Prophet’s headline the next morning didn’t mention the Potters at all! Instead it showed a photo of Witch Umbridge with a large caption that read:

**_Wanted to stand charges of casting an Imperius Curse!_ **

          Below was a second photo, that of Paige Crowley, looking as elegant and beautiful as always. _“I don’t want to believe she did it,”_ the article beneath it read, _“but facts are facts.”_

 _With Witch Umbridge in the news lately, I got to thinking about the last time I saw Auntie D but I couldn’t_  
_remember… I have a letter from Auntie D among my things where she offered to take me to the Potions_  
_Faire and help me select the proper materials to set up a complete potions lab. It was right after I won_  
_my Potions prize, you see. I don’t remember going to the Potions Fair at all, but vendors say I was there_  
_with Auntie D… I left Hogwarts early last year to attend_ _Aunt Ursula’s_ _funeral and settle her affairs. I was_  
_her nearest relative. I don’t remember attending the funeral but friends say Auntie D was there and left_  
_with me when I went to_ _Aunt Ursula’s_ _mansion afterwards... I don’t remember breaking up with my long_  
_time beau Tom Richards, but the merchants say I did that while in Knockturn Alley. They also say Auntie D_  
_was seen there minutes later…_

_I’ve been trying to figure out why I did all those things to the Potters; I scarcely know the Potters much less_  
_have any particular feelings against them. Besides their well-known name, they are a rather unambitious_  
_lot with barely passing scores. It makes much more sense if Auntie D made me do all those things! Though_  
_she’s never explained why, I know Auntie D doesn’t especially like the Potters! Auntie D took a three-month_  
_leave of absence from the Ministry last Fall and I can’t find anyone who remembers seeing her during that_  
_time._

_The Headmistress has been whining all year about an unknown intruder; I never took much stock in that,_  
_but Auntie D worked at Hogwarts once and is really good with spells. She could have easily been on campus_  
_that whole time. Auntie D was also on leave when I took Miss Wycliff from the Infirmary… I don’t know why_  
_Auntie D would make me do these things but I’m certain she did…_

          Holly read the story with considerable relief. Finally, the things Witch Umbridge had been doing were out in the open! Strangely enough, while the general student body had hotly debated the events with Witch Umbridge in the woods, this latest charge was taken seriously by nearly everyone. Certainly, the Ministry of Magic took it seriously and promptly issued a warrant for Witch Umbridge’s arrest. The _Daily Prophet_ also carried an account of how Ministry Officials could not find Witch Umbridge to arrest. Witch Umbridge had clearly fled rather than face her accuser. Many students took that flight as further proof of guilt.  
          Holly felt certain all that extra attention would prevent Witch Umbridge from trying anything else at Hogwarts. All the same, she was glad her outdoor exams were completed. Holly intended to stay indoors with her friends as much as possible just to be safe.


	53. Chapter 53

          At 5:00 a.m. Daniel Pilkington Apparated behind a hedge of bushes with a loud _crack!_ He looked around quickly in case he was noticed and saw no one. Reassured, Daniel pulled out a Muggle-style hat and put it on his head squishing his curly hair flat. Then he brought out a folded piece of parchment and stepped out on the sidewalk. Daniel unfolded the parchment, which proved to be a map. Easily orienting himself, Daniel followed the map and came to a stop outside a private Muggle school named “Smeltings.” Daniel selected a large tree, leaned his back against its thick trunk, pulled out a book and started to read all the while keeping an eye on his surroundings.  
          Several Muggles in loose fitting clothing moved on the sidewalk at a slow jog passing by after 6:00 a.m. They had strings hanging from their ears attached to small rectangle boxes that hung from their waists and looked neither right nor left as they passed. They mingled with other Muggles who walked by with dogs on leashes. The dogs glanced curiously at Daniel but otherwise continued forward anxious to be about their own business.  
          At 7:00 a.m. a middle aged lady with short brown hair wearing a dark blue suit walked up to the central building of Smeltings. A sign in front said “Administration.” She pulled out a key, opened the door and stepped inside the building. More people wearing suits walked up and entered the building.  
          Around 8:00 a.m. a nanny in a frumpy black suit and chunky black shoes slowly wheeled a pram down the sidewalk. She wore a small black hat decorated with a single purple rose and limped slightly as if the shoes hurt her feet. The nanny selected an empty bench outside the Smeltings Administration building and sat down with obvious relief. Daniel heard a baby’s cry and the nanny immediately leaned over and checked the pram rearranging the blankets within. The crying ceased. The nanny pulled out a colorful magazine, sat back down on the bench and began to read while using her foot to gently jiggle the pram.  
          Daniel sensed rather than saw a movement to the left of the nanny. Watching carefully he saw Harry Potter emerge from the shadows. Mr. Potter wore a nondescript Muggle suit that seemed to blend in the background. He walked quietly up to the nanny.  
          “Hello Rita,” Daniel heard him say in a flat cold voice.  
          The "nanny" jumped visibly at his words, “Oh, ah, hello, Harry!” she blustered standing up to cover her surprise. “What are you doing here?”  
          “Waiting for you!” Mr. Potter said bluntly. That was Daniel’s cue. He moved quietly forward from the other side and pulled an official scroll from his pocket.  
          “You were? Whatever for?” asked Ms. Skeeter.  
          “To give you this!” spoke up Wizard Pilkington cheerfully. Ms. Skeeter wheeled around hastily at the sound of his voice and Daniel placed the sealed scroll firmly in her gloved hand.  
          “Have you met Wizard Daniel Pilkington?” asked Mr. Potter easily. “He’s Holly’s solicitor. I understand he’s quite good.”  
          “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Daniel pleasantly while removing his hat and giving Ms. Skeeter an elaborate bow. “Might I add that is a very fetching disguise, too.” And it was. The pram with the crying doll was a nice touch. Up close Daniel could easily tell it was Rita Skeeter, but from a distance, he hadn’t been nearly as sure as Mr. Potter. No doubt Mr. Potter had much more experience than he at picking out Ms. Skeeter from a crowd.  
          “Ah, thank you,” said Ms. Skeeter, clearly disconcerted. “What is this?” she asked looking uncertainly from Daniel to the scroll and back to him again.  
          “It’s a Restraining Order,” answered Daniel promptly.  
          “A what?” exclaimed Ms. Skeeter indignantly.  
          “A Restraining Order,” repeated Daniel patiently. “You are to keep your distance from the Wycliff family. No more trying to find where they live; no more attempts at interviews!”  
          “What?” sputtered Ms. Skeeter. “You can’t do that!”  
          “I can, and I have!” replied Daniel smoothly.  
          “They’re unplottable!” put in Mr. Potter. “Your constant efforts to ferret them out have been a violation of their rights to privacy.”  
          “That’s impossible!” scoffed Ms. Skeeter. “You can’t make people unplottable!”  
          “Apparently, you can,” replied Daniel calmly. “And the Ministry agrees. I’ve gotten the Wycliff name placed on the register of unplottable homes. And as the Wycliffs are a law abiding Wizard family—”  
          “They’re Muggles!”  
          “Holly Wycliff is a well established witch which makes her family a _Wizard_ family,” countered Mr. Potter.  
          “And as the Wycliffs are a law abiding _Wizard_ family who have made it abundantly clear they do not wish to be bothered by others of our community,” continued Daniel as if the interruptions had not occurred, “your attempts to seek them out breaks _wizard_ law and if you continue to do so, I shall sue you and the _Daily Prophet_ for everything you’re worth.”  
          “You wouldn’t!” replied Ms. Skeeter scandalized.  
          “I would!” replied Daniel firmly. He straightened to his full height and looked down and directly in Rita Skeeter’s eyes. “I understand no one has ever won a lawsuit against the _Daily Prophet_ ,” he added informatively. “If you disregard this Restraining Order, I shall make it my personal goal in life to be the first to break that record.”  
          “You have five hours to rescind that tip reward of yours and call off your dogs,” informed Mr. Potter firmly. “After that! Any hint of magic—people, creatures or otherwise, around the Wycliffs and you’ll be hearing from Wizard Pilkington! ... Leave … them … alone!”  
          “We’ll see about that!” stormed Ms. Skeeter with fury. She drew her wand and—  
          “I wouldn’t be in such a rush to leave,” interrupted Daniel suddenly and he lifted his arm up blocking Ms. Skeeter’s wand movement and her intended spell.  
          “Why?” said Ms. Skeeter impatiently.  
          “You might see something interesting…” replied Daniel enigmatically.  
          “Yeah, right,” said Ms. Skeeter bitterly. “Parents you claim I cannot talk to.”  
          “Actually, the parents won’t be coming,” responded Mr. Potter, his voice calm and informative.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes, it seems they received an official notice that the student pick-up date had been changed from today to tomorrow…”  
          “But that’s not true,” protested Ms. Skeeter in disbelief.  
          “No, it isn’t,” agreed Mr. Potter in a thoughtful voice. “I was rather surprised myself when they told me... Then I got to wondering why someone would send them misleading information.”  
          “Probably a bureaucratic snafu,” said Ms. Skeeter with disinterest.  
          “Unlikely,” replied Mr. Potter. “Even Muggles get some things right. Then I got to wondering _who_ would have sent it…”  
          “It wasn’t me,” Ms. Skeeter asserted immediately.  
          “Yeah, I know,” agreed Mr. Potter. “You want to meet them not delay them…” His voice trailed off pensively. “But then it occurred to me that you might not have been the only enterprising person who thought to look for Vernon through the schools.”  
          “None of my people did this!” asserted Ms. Skeeter confidently.  
          “Of course not,” Mr. Potter agreed, “but there might be someone else out there with less than noble reasons, someone who might want the boy without the parents...”  
          “Whatever for?” questioned Ms. Skeeter in disbelief. “He’s just a Muggle!”  
          “True, but Holly isn’t!”  
          “So?”  
           Mr. Potter turned and fixed his steely gaze on Ms. Skeeter. “My boys don’t lie!” he told her fiercely. “Someone took Holly into the woods, someone who wanted something from her and then thought to use my boys as hostage to get it! Vernon would make a less resistant but equally persuasive hostage, don’t you think?”  
           “To get what?” demanded Ms. Skeeter. “Holly hides out with her Muggle family during the summer and is at Hogwarts the rest of the time! What could Holly have that would be of interest to any of us?”  
          “That is something you would have to ask her!” replied Mr. Potter stonily.  
          _“If_ she comes,” interposed Daniel smoothly breaking up their discussion. It was clear Harry Potter had not forgotten the articles Rita had recently written about his family in the _Prophet_. It must have hurt to stand silently by while others said even the Prime Minister believed Witch Umbridge’s accusations or else he would have issued an arrest warrant based solely on Headmistress McGonagall’s report. “Let’s see if anything happens, first,” suggested Daniel in a soothing voice and he pointedly turned his attention to the Smeltings campus and Administration building. Ms. Skeeter and Mr. Potter followed his lead and looked also.  
          More Muggles from the village had drifted onto the campus. A young mother with two small children took advantage of the green lawn to sit and relax while her children kicked a ball back and forth. A Muggle man with a cane had shuffled slowly by, found an empty bench and now sat enjoying the morning sun.  
          Around 8:30 a.m. some students in maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers and straw hats, obviously the school uniform, appeared from throughout the campus each hauling or dragging various bags and suitcases with them. The students stopped at a circular road outside the main office. More students gathered with their things until a large number of students stood around the outside the office all clearly awaiting their rides home. Bags and suitcases were stacked high between them. Daniel knew one of the boys must be Holly’s brother Vernon but didn’t try to figure out which. He’d learn that soon enough if things went as anticipated.  
          Various Muggle vehicles started pulling up. They stopped in the circle. Someone would get out; a boy would separate from the crowd, walk forward and greetings were exchanged. Then the vehicle drove off with both the student and his luggage.  
           “This is ridiculous!” scoffed Ms. Skeeter impatiently. “The parents probably just read the date wrong!”  
           “Perhaps,” said Mr. Potter in a non-committal sounding voice. He was again in control of his emotions. He continued to watch the group and, despite her prostrations, so did Ms. Skeeter.  
           Suddenly a voice sounded louder than the rest. **“Wycliff!”** the voice said. **“Message for you in the office.”** A husky youth with blond hair, straightened up. That had to be Vernon. He had been leaning against the flagpole while staring intently at some hand-held object. As Daniel watched, Vernon folded the object in half, tucked it into his pocket and started making his way through the crowd of boys.  
          “This is it!” murmured Harry Potter and he started moving forward. Daniel started walking forward as well matching Mr. Potter’s pace. Ms. Skeeter hesitated, looking uncertainly down at her pram. Then she grabbed her nanny-looking black bag and followed leaving the pram behind.  
          Vernon walked up towards the office entrance then suddenly veered and continued walking outside the building along its side wall. Heedless of the crowds, Mr. Potter broke into a run. Daniel and Ms. Skeeter hurried to keep up. Oblivious of the three, Vernon continued purposefully forward walking swiftly alongside the building heedless of the shrubs and bushes he encountered along the way. Daniel reached the wall of the Administration building with Mr. Potter several meters in front of him just as Vernon rounded the corner disappearing from sight. Mr. Potter drew his wand as did Daniel and they raced to the edge of the building…  
          “Hey Vernon!” Daniel heard someone shout. “What are you doing back here?”

**_“STUPIFY!”_ **

          Not one but three voices sounded in near unison!

          Mr. Potter rounded the corner. Daniel rounded the corner and abruptly stopped nearly running into Mr. Potter, who had stopped as well. A young boy in maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers and a straw hat stood on the other side holding a wand pointed at the ground near Vernon. He wore a Smeltings uniform but Daniel easily recognized the boy having seen him often at the quidditch matches—Albus Potter! On the opposite side two more people suddenly materialized by taking off an invisible cloak. Daniel recognized James Potter and, though having never seen photos of her, guessed the girl, too young to be Rose Weasley, was Lily Potter. They also pointed their wands towards the ground near Vernon. Vernon stood hunched over with one arm outstretched towards the ground as if being pulled downwards. The expression on his face was a lost look of confusion.  
          “Hiya Cuz!” said Albus cheerfully.  
          Vernon’s head turned at the voice. His body seemed to relax a bit. “Wh-what’s going on, Albus?” he asked in a shaky voice.  
          “Not much,” replied Albus dismissively. “Just some unfinished business.” Stepping forward Albus swung his wand sharply downward between Vernon’s arm and the ground. It struck something solid mid-air, something invisible. Albus continued using his wand tapping on “nothing” until it seemed to swing through hitting only air. Then he rapped his wand sharply downward and a new person wearing a pink headband, pink suit and shoes suddenly appeared lying face down on the ground where she had obviously fallen. Witch Umbridge!  
          She was frozen in place; one arm was stretched out above her head holding a wand and the other jeweled hand gripped Vernon’s wrist pulling him down with her. Putting away his wand, Albus reached out and carefully pried the fingers loose one by one, releasing Vernon from her grasp. Vernon straightened and rubbed his wrist. Witch Umbridge’s arm remained awkwardly extended back and upwards in the air. “Nothing you need worry about,” Albus added lightly. “I’ll explain later. In the meantime, I’d like you to meet my brother James…”  
           James dipped his head in acknowledgement, “Pleased to meet you,” he said politely.  
           “…and my sister Lily.”  
          “Hi,” said Lily in a shy soft voice looking up at Vernon.  
           “You already know my father,” continued Albus nodding towards Mr. Potter who nodded at Vernon, “and I believe you’ve met Ms. Skeeter…” Puffing loudly, Rita Skeeter had arrived in time to see Witch Umbridge materialize on the ground and stood less than a meter behind Mr. Potter. Ms. Skeeter wore only one of those heavy black shoes, her nanny suit was askew, her black hat was gone and her blonde hair flew untidily around her face. “But I’m not sure who…” Albus added uncertainly looking at Daniel.  
          “I’m Daniel Pilkington,” interposed Daniel smoothly giving a short bow, “Miss Wycliff’s solicitor and alternate guardian should something happen to Mr. Potter.” That was for Rita’s benefit should she start writing more guardian articles. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Wycliff,” Daniel added courteously.  
          “Uh, likewise,” said Vernon uncertainly. Then he turned his green eyes downwards. “Who’s uh?” he began.  
          “This,” Albus added looking down at Witch Umbridge. “This is someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. You wouldn’t want to meet her in a lit alley either,” Albus added thoughtfully looking about at the clear blue skies above, “or any time, for that matter!” Albus concluded.  
          Lily stepped forward. Still aiming her wand at Witch Umbridge, she used her free hand to wrest the wand from the lady’s grip. “She is not a nice lady!” Lily pronounced firmly. She stood and carried the wand to where Mr. Potter stood. Lily handed the wand to her father.  
          “Thank you,” he told her gravely. Lily smiled happily and then returned to a watchful position with her wand again pointed at Witch Umbridge. Mr. Potter smiled affectionately at his daughter and then placed the wand in his pocket.  
          “That was a pretty impressive Disillusionment Charm,” James said conversationally. “If that’s what it was. Couldn’t see her at all.”  
          “Told you!” asserted Albus confidently. “She’s had plenty of practice using it to stand behind me in Divination giving Professor Trelawney the creeps and me nothing but accidents!”  
          “How did you know where to cast your spell!” asked Daniel curiously. He pointed his wand defensively at Witch Umbridge though it was clear it wasn’t necessary.  
          “When Vernon’s arm went out, I knew she had to be in front pulling him,” explained Lily. “Then I just pointed and spoke! We all did!” she added proudly.  
           “Nicely done,” said Mr. Potter approvingly. He pulled out the wand in his possession, the one Witch Umbridge was carrying, and looked at it thoughtfully. “I wonder,” he mused out loud, “if the last spell she was using was … _unforgivable?”_ Mr. Potter turned towards Ms. Skeeter as he spoke and held the wand tantalizing within reach. “It might even match the last spell used on her own wand…”  
          Witch Umbridge’s wand was still in the custody of Headmistress McGonagall. The last spells used on it had not been publicly released. “Any spell you claim it was used for is inconsequential,” Witch Umbridge boldly stated in her letters. “Harry Potter’s friends could have cast any number of spells while using my wand after _stealing_ it and maintain they were my spells…” No such claim could be made about this wand. Ms. Skeeter looked longingly at the wand.  
          “It might make an interesting exclusive!” put in Daniel speculatively. “Just the kind that sells lots of papers…”  
          Ms. Skeeter looked at Daniel and again thoughtfully at the wand. Her hand slowly reached out to take the wand; Mr. Potter abruptly pulled it out of reach, just. She froze, looked questioningly at Mr. Potter and he stared back. “Keep Vernon out of it,” he told her, “and the location.”  
          Ms. Skeeter stared from him back to the wand then back at Mr. Potter. “Deal!” she said suddenly and quickly reached out and snatched the wand before he could change his mind.  
          “What about them?” Ms. Skeeter asked in a businesslike tone as she opened her purse and tucked the wand safely inside.  
          “Them?”  
          “Them!” replied Ms. Skeeter nodding her head at the three children who still pointed their wands warily at Witch Umbridge. A notebook and fluorescent colored quill floated out of the purse and took up position next to her.  
          Mr. Potter adjusted his glasses and looked fondly at his family before replying. “I think a little publicity wouldn’t hurt now and then…” he said thoughtfully.  
          “Excellent!” said Ms. Skeeter briskly and a silver and black camera with flash attachment floated out of her bag. “Look this way!” she commanded. The three children, wands still pointed, looked up and the bright light of a camera flashed in their faces. Ms. Skeeter then stepped forward and knelt down next to Witch Umbridge’s head. “How does it feel to be taken out by a first year student?” she asked as her quill started writing away. “Surprised, of course,” she added answering her own question. “You had no idea students at Hogwarts were taught so well at such a young age! What made you risk using a spell on a Muggle boy?” she asked next and proceeded to compose an answer…  
          Daniel stepped close to Harry Potter. “We’ll handle this,” Daniel assured him in a low voice his wand still pointed firmly at Witch Umbridge. “You’ve a family to get home,” Daniel reminded and he looked pointedly at Vernon. Vernon hadn’t moved but stood looking dumbly, almost fearfully, at Ms. Skeeter and all the floating items around her.  
          Mr. Potter looked at Daniel a long time as if gauging the depth of his sincerity. Daniel met that gaze squarely and waited willing his sincerity to show through. He’d read Holly’s memory report. There was no way Witch Umbridge was going anywhere but straight to the authorities.  
          Finally Mr. Potter took a deep breath and nodded. “Come on, Vernon,” he said in a brisk voice while walking forward. “I’ve a limo waiting. And we still have your luggage to fetch.” He placed a reassuring hand on Vernon’s shoulder and gently turned him away from Rita Skeeter, her floating journalistic tools, and Witch Umbridge’s still form. “James, Albus, Lily!” Mr. Potter added. “You too! You’ve school to get back to.”  
          “But what if she wants to interview us?” asked Lily in a plaintive voice as she put away her wand and stepped away from the witch.  
          “I’m sure Rita’ll think of some appropriate answers,” replied Mr. Potter with a smile. The five walked to the edge of the building, turned the corner and vanished from sight.  
          Daniel returned his attention to Witch Umbridge. Still not moving, the witch was easy to guard but Daniel did not relax. He knew she had carried a second wand in the woods and Daniel wanted no surprises. He waited patiently while Ms. Skeeter continued her interview.  
          “How did you know she would come this way?” Ms. Skeeter suddenly asked as she lifted her head and looked at Daniel.  
          “We didn’t,” replied Daniel promptly, “but it was the nearest and most logical location. Mr. Potter’s friends were waiting at some of the other less likely locations and, of course, we were on the other side should Vernon suddenly head in that direction…”  
 _“Crack!”_ Daniel looked up and saw Mr. Ronald and Mrs. Hermione Weasley at the other end of the building. They held their wands alertly and walked forward coming to a stop in front of Daniel.  
          “We’ve come to help,” said Mr. Weasley looking grimly down at Witch Umbridge. Daniel nodded. Extra hands were appreciated. It could be problematic transporting her from a Muggle community without being noticed.  
          “I’ll set the wards,” volunteered Mrs. Weasley. “That should keep the others away,” and promptly walked off to one side. She returned after a short while and stood back while resolutely pointing her wand at Witch Umbridge.  
          Rita Skeeter finally stood and looked around. The camera spun suddenly taking photos of everyone present. Then her quill, notebook and camera flew back into her purse. “I’m finished,” she announced snapping the purse shut. And with a wave of her wand Ms. Skeeter Apparated out with a loud _crack!_  
          Daniel bent and used his free hand to take a firm grip of Witch Umbridge. The Weasleys did the same. “Allow me,” offered Daniel. He saw hesitation in their eyes so Daniel added, “I know the Ministry better.” They nodded and Daniel Apparated the group to the Security Chambers of the Ministry.

********************

          “Are you ready?” asked Becky impatiently.  
          “In a moment,” replied Holly giving her hair one last stroke with a brush.  
          “Good! I don’t want to be late for the end-of-year feast!”  
          Holly added her butterfly clip to her hair and studied the look thoughtfully in the mirror. Perhaps it was time for a change. She’d always kept her hair long and straight like Lily at Hogwarts. In a way, that had made Holly feel safer in the wizard world. The look had served her well. But she wasn’t Lily and didn’t really need the safety of Lily’s looks any more, did she? Not that Holly liked the curly bob she’d worn at home, but Grandmum now knew she looked like Lily so perhaps Holly could come up with a style a little less drastic than the bob yet still different—one she could wear at both places. She’d talk with mum about it.  
          “Ready!” Holly announced. She and Becky went into the common room where Mark was waiting. Together, they headed towards the Great Hall.

********************

          Holly glanced briefly down the dark corridor at the third floor landing on their way to the Great Hall.  
          “Still afraid of the Trophy Room?” asked Becky noting her look.  
          “What? No, of course not!” replied Holly defensively.  
          “Afraid of what you’ll see?” persisted Becky. “Or won’t see…”  
          “Or that you’ll see something and then won’t—ever again?” added Mark shrewdly.  
          “No!” exclaimed Holly. “Yes!” she said after a moment. “Both!” she added miserably. “How did you know?” she asked suddenly.  
          “Just sort of figured you did,” said Becky vaguely.  
          “"Course that mournful sigh you give every time we pass the third story landing was kind of a dead giveaway,” added Mark dryly.  
          “I do not!” said Holly scandalized. “Do I?” she added turning to Becky.  
          “You do!” agreed Becky reluctantly.  
          “Why didn’t you say something?”  
          “Say what? We figured you had too much on your mind already to suggest you add another flashback to the list,” Becky told her.  
          “Oh,” said Holly suddenly feeling horribly self-conscious. She hated being so much trouble.  
          “Did you ever think that if you wait too long he might not be there at all?” questioned Mark kindly. They all knew who Holly thought about when she passed the third floor…  
          “Yes,” admitted Holly forlornly. “I worry about that too! But I just can’t bear…” Holly broke off. “I’m so afraid…” she tried again.  
          “I know,” said Becky sympathetically. “That’s why we made arrangements for you to spend the evening with Clayton after dinner.”  
          “Clayton?” questioned Holly. “Why?”  
          “Clayton is good at art,” informed Becky. “Did you notice he’s always got pad and paper in hand?”  
          “Um, no, I hadn’t,” confessed Holly immediately feeling guilty that she was so consumed with her own problems that she had neglected to learn more about the other students in Hufflepuff. Clayton was also a 6th year boy and so of course Holly hadn’t given him a second glance.  
          “Well he does,” continued Becky. “He’s teaching Carrie, you know.” Holly didn’t know. She knew Clayton was Carrie’s tutor but she didn’t know about the art part. “And I’ve seen some of his work.” added Becky. “He’s good. Very good. He’s done a lot of portraits too…”  
          “So?”  
          “So Mark found some photos of Severus Snape in the _Prophet_ when he was Headmaster and we took a photo of the one of him in the Memorial… We took the images to Clayton to review. Clayton has agreed to go with you to the third floor. You tell him what you see and he’ll draw it. Kind of like what those sketch artists that I’ve seen on the tube do in the detective stories. That way, no matter what happens, you’ll still have that image…”  
          “Oh, Becky you’re the best!” cried Holly flinging her arms around her. “You too, Mark!” she added including him in her hug. “What did I ever do to deserve friends like you?”  
          Mark immediately ducked out, Holly could feel him warm with self-conscious embarrassment but Becky merely laughed and hugged Holly back. “Just show me the portrait when you’re done. I want to see who you’ve been mooning about all year.”  
          “Deal!”

********************

          The Great Hall was filled with students. Holly’s eyes immediately sought out the Potter family. They looked positively cheerful despite the green and gold decorations that filled the Hall. And why not?  
          Only that morning the _Daily Prophet_ had featured a huge headline announcing the capture of Witch Umbridge! Holly was more pleased when she overheard the students talking on the way to breakfast and realized the Potters had been involved with the capture. Considering all Witch Umbridge had done to Albus, they deserved to have a hand in her capture.  
          But Holly nearly had a heart attack when she saw the huge photo accompanying the article in the _Daily Prophet_ showing the Potter children victoriously standing around Witch Umbridge! Nobody had mentioned Vernon or Smeltings! Certainly Rita’s thrilling account of a simple family outing that turned into something more thanks to the observant, quick-acting Potter children made no mention of Holly’s brother. But there was no mistaking the maroon tailcoat, orange knickerbockers and straw hat that Albus wore. And there was only one place such an outfit would have been appropriate to wear…  
         “He’s fine!” Albus assured Holly when she finally got him cornered. “Just a little shook up, that’s all,” he informed her. “Nothing to worry about!” But Holly did worry. She wouldn’t rest easy until she saw Vernon for herself! The thought that Witch Umbridge had gotten so close to the rest of her family was scary!  
          Below the Headline announcing Witch Umbridge’s capture was a smaller article titled _Evil Eye Unmasked?_ It described an account of the “Evil Eye” that had plagued Divination class during the fall. “Now that I know how good Witch Umbridge is at invisibility spells,” reported Professor Trelawney in an interview, “it occurs to me that she may have used my class to inflict mischief on young Mr. Potter… I knew someone was there, someone who meant no good, but I had no idea the person was from _this_ plane and not some other...”  
          Ever since, the Potters had been surrounded by students—well-wishers, admirers, those who wanted more details… Even the Slytherins had accepted the Potter’s sudden notoriety with fairly good graces. After all, the Potters had helped capture someone who reportedly had attacked one of their own and Albus suddenly seemed forgiven for all his “clumsiness” throughout the year...  
          Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat. The Great Hall grew silent. “Another year at Hogwarts has passed,” she told the students. “While each year is unique and creates its own memories, some good, some not as good,” she added looking over the group. “I am pleased to observe this year has ended in a most positive note…” Her eyes seemed to fall on Albus as she spoke and he seemed to straighten at her words. “But we must get on with the business of the evening and that is the presentation of the House Cup. As I am sure you all know, it goes to the Slytherins!” The Slytherins cheered loudly, of course, and everyone else clapped politely.  
          “I don’t mind the Slytherins winning,” Holly told Becky sitting next to her. “I just wish they had actually done more to _earn_ it!” Most of the Slytherin points had been obtained due to the conflict engineered by Witch Umbridge. More had been garnered after the stadium collapsed when sympathy had run high in their favor. Professor Slughorn had been exceedingly generous doling out House points to the Slytherins who helped Paige with her memories…  
          “I won’t bore you with the numbers,” the Headmistress continued. That was a kindness. The Slytherins were so far ahead their hourglass had grown in size to accommodate all the extra emeralds! There was no chance of any other house catching up even if the Headmistress awarded some last minute points, not that she would. Headmistress McGonagall was not known for playing favorites. “So perhaps a Slytherin representative could come forward to accept the cup…”  
          Everyone clapped politely while someone from the Slytherin table rose. To Holly’s surprise, it was Paige Crowley! Paige wore a slender gold circlet on her head. Her tall willowy body looked truly elegant in the form fitting moss green gown she wore. The gown was trimmed in gold and seemed to shimmer and catch the light as she moved confidently forward to claim the Cup. Watching her, Holly suddenly realized that the gold circlet was actually a long band that somehow encircled her forehead and then gathered her long black hair together into a single ponytail. The gold band wound around and around her hair like a gold spiral extending to her waist. Paige reached out and received the cup. She turned and held it out victoriously in front of the students. Her black eyes seemed to glitter proudly but otherwise, her face revealed no outward emotions. Everyone applauded. The Slytherin students again clapped and cheered the loudest.  
          Then Paige lowered the cup and began walking. To everyone’s surprise, Paige walked purposefully towards the Gryffindor table stopping in front of Albus Potter. The room grew quiet; everyone wondered what she would say or do next.  
          “I understand you think you can see thestrals,” she said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.  
          “I can,” Albus replied in a loud firm voice looking directly at Paige.  
          “How many are there?”  
          Albus stood. He stepped away from his table and straightened his robes before responding. “Seventeen, including babies,” he answered clearly.  
          “How many babies?”  
          “Two and one half grown.”  
          “What color are the adults?”  
          “Black.”  
          “What color are the juveniles?”  
          “Black.”  
          “Which one leads the band—the one with the scar or the one that limps?”  
          “Neither!” Albus answered firmly. “There is no main leader. Besides,” he added. “Professor Hagrid takes too good care of the thestrals for _any_ to limp or have scars!”  
          “What about that torn wing?”  
          “What torn wing? I’ve only seen spider bites and a bit of ointment fixes them right up—without scars!”  
          Paige regarded Albus thoughtfully for what seemed an eternity and he met her gaze squarely. Suddenly she asked, “Who died?” The whole Hall seemed to let out a great sigh as if collectively holding their breath. Her words seemed to acknowledge that Albus did indeed see thestrals.  
          Albus looked around the Hall knowing everyone was waiting for an answer. “Who died for you?” he instead countered.  
          There was another long silence while Paige considered his question. Finally she spoke. “My Great Aunt Matilda,” she replied. “She called the whole family together on her deathbed. She wanted us to see what few wizards could see…”  
          “That stinks,” said Albus sympathetically.  
          “It was a long time ago,” Paige added coolly.  
          “Mine was only two years ago,” informed Albus, “and I don’t wish to talk about it.”  
          Paige nodded and a look of understanding crossed her face. “You should,” she told him, “It’ll help.” He silently nodded accepting her advice. Paige turned as if to leave and then abruptly stopped. She wheeled around a second time.  
          “You realize,” she began, “that no wizards died two years ago…”  
          “Yeah, I know,” agreed Albus. “Makes it hard to talk about,” he added bitterly.  
          “And no spell can revive the dead…”  
          “I know one,” countered Albus dryly.  
          “That’s impossible!”  
          “Is it?” he challenged. “I see thestrals.”  
          Paige regarded Albus thoughtfully. “So you do…” she said softly. Paige looked at the trophy cup in her hands. “This should be Gryffindors’,” she said suddenly.  
          “What?” said Albus in surprise.  
          “All the points your House lost because of the thestrals!” she added explaining. “This should be yours, not ours!” and she thrust the cup towards Albus.  
          “What’s she doing?” questioned Becky.  
          “It’s an apology!” whispered Mark in surprise.  
          Was it? The Slytherins had way more points than any Albus had lost due to thestral fights and everybody knew it. But if one considered all the other House points lost due to the things Paige had done at Witch Umbridge’s command… Holly looked over at the Slytherins. She sensed no anger there, only anticipation. It _was_ an apology, Slytherin style. Albus eyed the cup longingly. Holly could tell he wanted it badly. He looked down as he thought about her words and then back at the cup.  
          “No,” he said regretfully. “It’s yours. I shouldn’t have been fighting, no matter what the provocation.” Albus had his pride too. It was clear he wouldn’t take the Cup under false pretext.  
          “We share the Cup?” suggested Paige. “After all, it takes two to fight.” She was equally determined…  
          “I guess it does,” agreed Albus thoughtfully and he looked over at the Gryffindor table as he spoke. They watched him breathlessly. “We share it?” he asked the other Gryffindors? They didn’t move, but Holly could sense their approval. “We share!” Albus announced. He turned to the Headmistress. She smiled and clapped her hands. Half the green and gold banners and decorations turned to the red and black of Gryffindor. The whole Hall erupted in cheers. The Headmistress clapped her hands a second time, not that Holly could hear the clap for all the noise, and the banners alternated from color to color as they should for a shared cup. Albus stepped forward, took the other side of the cup and then turned with Paige to face the students in the Hall. Together, they raised the cup high in celebration.  
          The bright lights of a bulb suddenly flashed! Holly blinked in surprise. A camera! Who? Holly looked closer at the Slytherin table. Sure enough, Rita Skeeter was sitting amongst the Slytherins wearing a school robe. She blended right in with the other students. Holly hadn’t thought to look for her earlier. Rita must have known Paige would confront Albus about the thestrals, known there was a story to sell no matter how he responded.  
          Did the Headmistress know? Holly glanced up at Headmistress McGonagall. She did not look surprised and instead seemed to smile her approval. Of course she knew! How could she not with all the extra security measures in place to catch Witch Umbridge!  
          Was any one else here? Holly looked around the Hall—with her eyes this time; there were too many people to sort through with her senses. A slight movement in back caught Holly's attention. She looked closer! Gryffindor students, from their clothes—but the tall one looked very familiar… Cousin Harry! He stood unobtrusively against the wall. Holly recognized his wife Ginny standing besides him. As Holly stared, Cousin Harry looked at her. He smiled and placed one finger to his lips. Holly smiled and nodded back. This was not a public visit. Headmistress McGonagall had known Rita Skeeter would be there; she undoubtedly knew Cousin Harry would want to be there too—not as the famous Harry Potter, but as a proud parent cheering his family on…


	54. Chapter 54

          “…a little higher and more to the left,” said Holly thoughtfully staring at the wand position.  
          “Here,” said Clayton handing Holly the art quill. “You do it.”  
          Holly took the quill. She gently touched the wand on the page. Holding it on the page, she moved the quill up and over. The sketched wand drawn on the page followed her motions obligingly moving to the new location taking with it the hand, wrist and arm.  
          Holly had been apprehensive when she and Clayton reached the third floor landing. Would he be there waiting? She was afraid that the one person above all else she wanted so badly to see as a flashback wouldn’t be there perhaps merely because she wanted it so much.   
          It seemed as if her worst fears had come true when Holly made it all the way to the trophy room without seeing anyone. She had sorrowfully turned and started back when she happened to glance up.  
          He was there! Just as she remembered him! Tall and brave—so unafraid of what he knew would happen… _“I would have you remember me as I am!”_ Headmaster Snape had told her and Holly suddenly felt overcome with a sense sincerity like she had felt then. That had been the Headmaster’s way of letting Holly know that this indeed was what he wanted. Filled with grief of what had been, what was and what might have been, Holly began to sob uncontrollably. Clayton stood by silently and awkwardly patted Holly’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. Holly felt embarrassed by her flood of tears but at least she didn’t have to explain.  
          Eventually, the tears ran out. Clayton fished out a handkerchief and handed it to Holly. She accepted it gratefully and wiped the tears from her face.  
          “Is he still there?” asked Clayton curiously.  
          Holly looked up apprehensively. “Yes!” she whispered in relief, happy to see his stately figure still standing before her. Holly had been afraid that if she did see the Headmaster, his image might vanish the instant she looked away. Holly hadn’t meant to look away but she’d been unable to cry with her eyes open…  
          “Right!” Clayton said in a business-like tone. “Don’t move!” he told her as he set his school bag against the corridor wall. “Don’t want to risk loosing the image.” Holly remained in place as Clayton opened his bag. Then he proceeded to pull out a full sized easel, a huge canvas two meters in length, several flat boxes, a narrow rectangular box and a rather huge book!  
          “How’d you get all that in there?” questioned Holly in amazement for surely none of that should have fit in his comparatively small school bag.  
          “Undetectable Extension Charm,” he told her briskly as he pulled out several rolls of paper clearly uncrushed by their time in the smaller sized bag.  
          “You did that?” asked Holly clearly impressed.  
          “No, Cassie did,” replied Clayton.  
          “Just like that?”  
          “Not exactly,” admitted Clayton as he set up the easel. “I traded a portrait of her and her owl for the spell.” Clayton stopped what he was doing and looked directly at Holly. “You want a tricky spell done, go to the Ravenclaws,” he told her. “They’re usually bored so they’ve the time and will almost always barter…”  
          “That’s good to know,” replied Holly thoughtfully and she filed that piece of information away for future use.  
          Clayton placed his huge canvas on the floor. Holly was surprised to note it already had a charcoal sketch of Headmaster Snape drawn on it. She recognized the pose and expression as that from the memorial. It was a rather small sketch and did not nearly fit the huge size of the canvas.  
          “Um, no offense,” Holly began hesitantly. “But that’s not exactly how he looks…”  
          “Not to worry,” Clayton told her confidently. “It will.” Then, as if noting the doubt that remained on Holly’s face, he explained further. “I usually like to do my work the Muggle way: without magic. It takes longer, but it’s much more satisfying. Unfortunately, we don’t know how long this flashback of yours will last. That’s why I’m taking some short-cuts on the basics so we can spend as much time as possible getting the details right. I know what I’m doing,” Clayton assured Holly. “You’ll see.” Holly looked doubtfully at the figure on the page but said nothing.  
          Clayton pulled out a huge long roll of what Holly recognized as Wizard Art parchment. It was a thin opaque white paper that you see could shapes and colors through when held up to the light. Clayton fastened one end of the paper to the wall. He unrolled the paper until it reached the other side of the corridor. He fastened the roll to the other wall. Clayton tapped the paper lightly with his wand and it began to grow until one edge of the paper touched the ceiling and the other the floor. “I don’t usually do things this way,” he told Holly as he worked. “But this is a special case.” He opened up the narrow rectangle box. Inside were four quills. One was lime green in colour, one light gray, one lavender coloured and the last was solid black. “Can you see him through the paper?” Clayton picked up the black quill.  
          “Just barely,” admitted Holly.  
          “Good. Make a mark on the page where his feet are,” he told Holly handing her the quill. Holly did as she was told. The quill needed no ink and the colour just sort of flowed.  
          “Now what?”  
          “Mark each side of the corridor and the top, if you can reach it.” Holly did so. “And the top of his head,” he added. “This gives us the proper dimensions from your perspective,” he told her conversationally.  
          “Got it,” Holly told him. “Now what?” Clayton walked to the side and took hold of the paper with both hands. He gave a sharp pull outward stretching the paper with them. Then he detached the paper from the walls. When the paper was lowered, Holly could faintly see the outline of the corridor upon it. “Neat!” she said, impressed.  
          Clayton next laid the paper on his canvas. The parchment paper was much bigger than the canvas but that didn’t bother him. Clayton pulled out his wand, tapped the paper lightly and it began to slowly shrink. “We want to center the marks,” he told Holly as he worked. “Some floor below the feet… A bit of wall on each side and some ceiling for a border…” When the marks lined up on the canvas in a way that suited him, Clayton again tapped the paper with his wand and the shrinking stopped. The paper was still larger than the canvas but Clayton assured Holly what remained was excess walls and floor unnecessary to the portrait.  
          Then Clayton pulled out what appeared to be a rather large rolling pin. He proceeded to use the pin to press the paper to the canvas. “Careful,” he warned when Holly reached out to touch the pin. “It’s hot!” As he rolled, the parchment paper seemed to melt into the canvas and the excess disappeared. Suddenly the canvas seemed to glow! Clayton lifted the rolling pin and Holly watched in amazement as the image of the corridor appeared on the canvas in full color!  
          But the sketch of Severus Snape did not fit properly in the corridor. It was way too small and seemed to float in the air with his feet way off the floor. Clayton set the rolling pin aside. He lifted the gray quill and placed the tip of the quill on the feet of his sketch. Then he gently dragged the sketch down so the feet landed on the floor of the corridor in the canvas much the same way that Holly had seen Vernon use a mouse to drag images on a computer. He returned the gray quill to its place and removed the lavender quill. “I don’t usually work with such a large canvas,” Clayton told Holly as he placed the quill at the top of the sketch’s head. “But this way we’ll have the space to include all the details without having to use a microscope.” He kept the quill touching the canvas while moving it up to Holly’s head mark. The sketch seemed somehow attached to the quill and grew larger and larger until it filled the corridor.  
          Then Clayton lifted the canvas and fitted it on the easel. He adjusted the easel so Holly could easily see it but it did not obstruct her view of the corridor. “That the proper size?” he asked.  
          Holly gulped. It was difficult looking at the Headmaster analytically. “Yes, I think so.”  
          “Great!” said Clayton encouragingly. “Now, the clothes…” He put the quill away.  
          “Uh,” began Holly uncertainly. How did one describe clothes?  
          “Snape was a Slytherin so I figure his clothing was pretty traditional…” continued Clayton.   “I’ve got this book,” he added picking up a book titled: _Wizard Fashions Through the Ages_. “I’m guessing he wore clothing similar to something in here.” He handed the book to Holly. “Look through it and pick out anything you see that matches what he is wearing and we’ll put it on. Holly nodded and started thumbing through the pages. “If you don’t see anything exactly right, find something similar and I’ll modify it. Don’t worry about colour,” Clayton added. “We’ll take care of that later...”  
          Bit by bit Clayton put the vision Holly saw in the corridor onto the canvas. The colours proved tricky. They just didn’t match what she saw when placed on the canvas until Clayton remembered Holly had visited Hogwarts during the morning. A simple tap with the wand and suddenly all the shading looked correct—Holly had no idea that the lighting within the castle changed with the time of day. Getting the Headmaster’s expression right was the hardest. But that disdainful sneer was eventually replaced by calm, cool confidence. He looked noble and handsome.  
          “I think that’s it!” Holly said suddenly as she lifted the quill from the canvas.  
          “You sure?” questioned Clayton.  
          Holly frowned. She looked from the portrait to the flashback and back again sensing that there would never be another chance to correct things if they weren’t exactly right. “Maybe a bit more highlight on the shoulder…” (Now that she knew what “highlights” were.) Clayton handed Holly a silver quill. Holly touched the canvas gently and the top of the shoulder grew brighter. _“No,”_ she thought, _“too much.”_ She brushed the same area with the feathery part of the quill and the brightened area dimmed. _“That’s it,”_ she thought with satisfaction double-checking the portrait against her flashback. _“Perhaps it should be a bit darker under the arm,”_ she mused looking down at the portrait. Holly looked up again to double check. Abruptly the flashback faded and vanished. “Oh!” she whispered dismayed.  
          “What?” asked Clayton.  
          “It’s gone!” Holly announced sadly.  
          “No it’s not,” corrected Clayton. “It’s here!” he told her pointing at the portrait on the canvas. “And here,” he added tapping Holly’s forehead lightly. “He’ll always be with you,” Clayton assured Holly. “And you don’t have to be afraid of loosing him.”  
          “I suppose,” Holly nodded reluctantly. It wasn’t quite the same as seeing the Headmaster standing right in front of her, but it was close and would have to do.  
          “Here,” Clayton said handing Holly a new quill. “Sign your name,” he told her.  
          “What?” squeaked Holly in surprise. “Oh, no, I couldn’t!”  
          “You should be proud of your work!” Clayton told Holly.  
          “But I didn’t do it—you did!” protested Holly.  
          “I couldn’t have done the portrait without you and I won’t sign it alone!” He held the quill insistently in front of Holly. Holly stared at the quill without touching it. “An unsigned painting is considered “anonymous,” informed Clayton. “You are anyone _but_ anonymous!”  
          Holly reluctantly took the quill. “Where?” she asked hesitantly.  
          “Usually on the bottom, in one of the corners,” Clayton told her. “That side is lighter so your name will show up,” he added indication one of the sides. “The other side is darker so your signature will sort of blend in and be less noticeable but still there…” Holly signed her name on the darker side—using very small letters. Clayton took the quill. He signed his name to the portrait beneath Holly’s in equally small letters and then added the date. Holly stood back and looked at the signatures critically. She nodded satisfactorily. They were next to impossible to see. A person would have to know where to look to even see them.  
          Then Clayton a placed color-fast spell on the canvas so the colors on the portrait would not fade or change with age. After that he added an anti-burn/waterproof/stain resistant spell and another one to prevent the paint from chipping or cracking. Clayton added a final spell to resist folds and bends in the canvas. Next, he placed a new piece of Wizard Art paper over it. Instead of rolling it on, he merely warmed the paper gently by rubbing it on the canvas with his hands and then removed it. “I’m making a copy for my records, “ he informed Holly as he rolled the art paper. “Don’t worry,” he assured her as he carefully placed his copy in his bag, “I won’t show it to anyone without your permission. But if something ever happens to your painting I can always duplicate it for you. Of course, I don’t expect that to be a problem,” he added informatively, “as I’ve cast every damage protection spell on it I can think of.”  
          Finally, Clayton removed the canvas from the frame. To Holly’s surprise, he pointed his wand at the canvas and shouted, _“Reducto!”_ The canvas and the portrait on it shrank to half the size. “Now, it’s easier to carry,” he informed Holly with a smile. “That anti-chipping or cracking spell works wonders,” he added confidentially while rolling the canvas into a tube. He tied a yellow ribbon around the canvas to keep it rolled. “You can shrink or enlarge this piece to any size you wish and it’ll stay in good condition! Just use _Reducto_ or _Engorgo_.” Clayton handed Holly the rolled canvas. “All yours!” he told her.  
          “Thank you,” whispered Holly. “Um, what do I owe you?” she asked.  
          “Nothing!” replied Clayton firmly.  
          “But, Cassie?”  
          “Cassie’s Ravenclaw,” said Clayton as if that explained everything. Then noting the confusion in Holly’s eyes, he added, “I don’t recall you charging anything for those anti-acne hexes you did a while back.”  
          “That’s different!” exclaimed Holly. It had been just something to do while holed up in the dorm.  
          “Not to me!” replied Clayton. “The Slytherins used to give me a real bad time about my face,” he told her. “And then it stopped! This is important to you and that was important to me. I wouldn’t think of charging you!”  
          “Oh,” said Holly in a rather small voice. She’d had no idea. Holly set the canvas carefully against the wall and proceeded to help Clayton put his things back in his bag. “Isn’t it heavy?” she inquired after she lifted the bulky easel and watched him stuff it into the bag.  
          “Nope!” assured Clayton. “But it can get difficult to find something specific,” he informed her. “I’ve gotten pretty good at the _accio_ spell so I don’t have to rummage around in my bag looking for things.” When they finished, Clayton stood and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Shall we go?” he suggested.  
          Holly looked up the corridor half hoping she’d see _him_ again. But she didn’t. “I guess so,” she said sorrowfully. There was no reason for her to stay now. Holly picked up the canvas roll and together the two walked down the corridor.  
          Clayton looked below when they reached the landing. “It sounds as if they are still celebrating downstairs,” he observed listening to the loud music. “Want to go downstairs and see what’s happening first?”  
          Holly thought. The music did sound inviting but… “Upstairs,” Holly decided firmly. She didn’t want to risk the canvas getting lost, misplaced or stolen…  
          “Hey, Eggleton!” shouted a taunting voice from below. “Got a new girl?” Looking down, she recognized Summerby and Warrington in a close embrace on the second floor landing. Holly flushed, immediately embarrassed! She scarcely knew Clayton! How dare they imply that she was his _girl!_  
          “Yep,” replied Clayton easily.  
_“Alone?”_  
          Clayton looked at Holly and smiled. Answering that question honestly could have resulted in a major loss of House points, but with the news that Witch Umbridge had been captured, the Headmistress had lifted the group travel restrictions. Holly knew several students had taken advantage of the last minute rule change. In fact, Holly had worried some couple seeking privacy would ignorantly walk through her flashback vision destroying the flashback and interrupt their attempts at art. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened.  
          “Yep,” agreed Clayton looking back down at the two. He didn’t seem annoyed or embarrassed by the words.  
          “Isn’t she a bit _young_ for you?” Warrington questioned pointedly. Holly could feel her face warm even more.  
          She wondered if Clayton would try to explain what they were doing to justify their otherwise compromising looking situation but Clayton only smiled more. “Yep!” he called out agreeing with their observation. “Gotta go!” he added. “Come on, Holly!” Taking Holly’s free hand he pulled her up the stairs. “It’s the last day of school,” Clayton reminded Holly as they walked. “They won’t remember any of this come fall. Sometimes, I find it easier to just agree with the Slytherins,” he added. “They run out of things to say faster…”

********************

          “Here he comes!” announced Becky.  
          Holly looked up in the direction Becky was looking and saw Cousin Harry making his way through the crowds of people. “We’ll have to stop now,” she told Becky’s little sister Lizzy meaning the finger game the two had been playing. She set Lizzy down and stood up. Lizzy looked like a miniature carbon copy of Becky. Lizzy wore big glasses that hid her warm brown eyes. Her brown hair was parted in the middle and tied into pig-tails just as Becky’s was when Holly first met her. Holly had been sitting on a bench on the Muggle side of Kings Cross Station with Lizzy on her lap waiting for Cousin Harry. Normally, Holly would have crossed the Barrier with Cousin Harry, but Becky’s parents had wanted to meet her, so Holly had gone across with Becky leaving word for Cousin Harry to meet her on the Muggle side later. Becky insisted on waiting with Holly until Cousin Harry arrived and, of course, Becky’s family waited with them…  
          Becky’s parents were both medium build and height with brown hair and glasses. Mr. Smith wore a brown suit with a matching derby hat. Mrs. Smith had a smiling face beneath her glasses. She wore a lavender flower patterned dress with a matching lavender coloured jacket. Her dark brown hair was curled and tucked neatly underneath a narrow brimmed lavender hat that was trimmed with a dark purple coloured flower.  
          “Hello, Holly,” greeted Cousin Harry. “Becky…”  
          “Hello, Cousin Harry,” greeted Holly.  
          Becky and her family stood up. “Mr. Potter, sir,” began Becky, “I’d like you to meet my parents, Charles and Emily Smith. This is Holly’s guardian, Mr. Harry Potter,” she continued.  
          “I believe we’ve already met,” said Cousin Harry giving a courtly bow to Mrs. Smith taking her outstretched hand and gently kissing its back. “It is good to see you both again.”  
          “You have?” questioned Becky in surprise. “When? You’ve never said anything about it!” she added accusingly looking at her parents.  
          “It was a matter of business,” interposed Cousin Harry smoothly. “Compensation for all the mail they’ve been forwarding back and forth for Holly. I’m sure they thought the visit was of little consequence and not worth mentioning.  
          “And as I told you before,” added Mr. Smith. “Purely unnecessary. A few extra stamps here and there are no big deal; we wouldn’t think of accepting remuneration! How are you Potter?” he added extending his hand to Cousin Harry. “Quite fine,” assured Cousin Harry taking the hand and shaking it warmly. Holly could sense there had been more to the visit than just mail compensation but she would inquire about that later. Clearly Cousin Harry did not wish to explain further here.  
          “Well, uh, have you met my brother Ike and my sister Lizzy,” asked Becky indicating the two other members of her family. She was still clearly disconcerted by the knowledge of Cousin Harry’s visit.  
          “I have not,” admitted Cousin Harry. "Pleased to meet you,” he said extending a hand to Becky’s brother Ike.  
          “You’re not as tall as I thought you’d be,” said Ike as he shook Cousin Harry’s hand.  
          “Ike!” said Mrs. Smith reprovingly.  
          “Well, he isn’t!” Ike exclaimed defensively.  
          “Perhaps that’s because you’re so much taller than Becky,” said Cousin Harry mildly. And indeed, Ike stood a full head and a half taller than Becky and loomed over his parents as well. In appearance, Ike stood out from the rest of the family. Literally! He was tall and thin with very light brown hair, brown eyes and _no_ glasses! Becky whispered to Holly that he looked a lot like her granddad.  
          “How do you do, Miss Smith?” asked Cousin Harry kneeling down to look her in the eyes.  
          “Do you really have a zig-zaggy scar on your forehead?” asked Lizzy bluntly when Cousin Harry took her hand and kissed it.  
          “Lizzy, hush!” ordered Becky swiftly. “Don’t mind her,” she added embarrassed by Lizzy’s boldness. “She’s only six.”  
          “I do indeed have a zig-zaggy scar,” said Cousin Harry lightly directing all his attention on Lizzy while ignoring Becky worries. “Want to see it?”  
          “Yeah,” said Lizzy eagerly. Cousin Harry obligingly pushed back the shock of hair that usually covered his scar. Both Lizzy and Ike peered closely to look at it. Mr. and Mrs. Smith looked also though they tried to appear as if they weren’t really looking at all…  
          “It’s so tiny!” exclaimed Lizzy. “You can barely see it!”  
          “Mmm, I expect it looked a lot larger when I was your age,” he told Lizzy conversationally. “The scar was the same size, of course, but my head was smaller, you know.”  
          “Oh,” said Lizzy satisfied with the answer.  
          Cousin Harry straightened. “Thank you for waiting with Holly,” he added warmly to the Smiths, “We’d best be going, now.”  
          “Yes, yes, of course,” agreed Mr. Smith. The couple smiled and nodded knowingly as they collected their things. They knew about Rita’s attempts to locate Holly’s parents and Cousin Harry’s efforts to keep the wizard community away.  
          “These your bags, Holly?”  
          “Yes, sir.” Cousin Harry easily lifted both bags and Holly grabbed her travel bag. Sasha leaped lightly onto her shoulder.  
          “Good-bye,” Cousin Harry told the Smiths. “Have a nice summer,” he added and started off.  
          “Good-bye,” Holly said as she gave Becky one last hug. Then she hastened to catch up with her cousin.  
          “Why did you visit the Smiths?” questioned Holly after the two had walked together several meters.  
          “Postage payment, as I said,” replied Cousin Harry lightly. “It isn’t right that they should have to pay for all your mail going to and from your family.”  
          “That wasn’t the only reason was it?” stated Holly calmly. She had learned to recognize truth and partial truths. Mr. Smith’s emotions seemed to shout out loudly of things unsaid.  
          “No,” admitted Cousin Harry after a few more steps. They reached a door labeled “Maintenance.”  
          “I’d like to know the other reason, if I may,” said Holly as Cousin Harry set down one of Holly’s bags, reached out and tried the knob. By now, Holly knew that Cousin Harry could not be ordered into revealing information he did not wish to provide. But Holly was certain, however, that whatever they discussed had to do with her and she felt she had a right to know. The door was locked. Turning his back to the Muggles, Cousin Harry drew his wand, pointed it at the knob and whispered: _“_ _Alohomora!”_ Then Cousin Harry returned the wand to his pocket and again tried the door. This time it opened easily.  
          “Your family’s unplottable,” Cousin Harry reminded Holly as he picked up her bag and stepped into the room. It appeared to be a tiny broom closet with no other exit.  
          “Um yes,” said Holly following him into the closet. She vaguely remembered Wizard Pilkington saying something about that but didn’t quite understand how it applied to her family.  
          “By giving your address to the Smiths and asking them to forward your mail, you have inadvertently made them sort of, well, “secret keepers,” explained Cousin Harry. He turned on a light switch and then closed the door behind them.  
          “Oh,” said Holly blankly. She wasn’t sure just what that meant.  
          “I thought the Smiths should know,” continued Cousin Harry. “I explained to them a bit about secret keeping and what it meant,” he continued informatively. “It wasn’t any big deal,” he added. “They’ve been successfully keeping your secret for over two years now so I told them to basically to continue doing what they’ve been doing. Speaking of which, I expect you already know to not give out your address to anyone for any reason. The more people who know, the less securely hidden your family becomes.” Holly nodded. Cousin Harry looked around the tiny room. “Are you up to Apparating?” he asked holding out his hand.  
          Holly gulped. She hated Apparating but she had no real reason to say “No!” not now. In addition, Holly knew that Apparating was the best way to insure they weren’t being followed… Holly opened her bag and Sasha leaped in. “Y-yes, sir,” she said reluctantly as she closed the bag tightly and tucked it under her arms. Then Holly took a deep breath, closed her eyes tightly and grabbed Cousin Harry’s outstretched hand. The now familiar squeezing and pressure happened, but not the nightmare memories. Holly opened her eyes when the pressure ended. She saw they now stood in a grassy area surrounded by trees.  
          “Where are we?” she asked curiously.”  
          “Just a park I wrote your mum about,” said Cousin Harry vaguely. “Shall we have a seat?” he asked indicating a nearby bench.  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Holly. She sat down and opened her bag. Sasha leaped out and began to run about exploring their new location.  
          “How are you?” he inquired sitting down next to Holly.  
          “Fine, sir,” answered Holly. More than fine. Holly had shown the painting to Mark and Becky as promised and then shrunk the canvas down so small that she was able to roll it around Lily's wand. The two now rested securely in the case at her waist. They somehow belonged together.  
          “That’s good,” said Cousin Harry reassured. “I noted you left the celebrations early, so I wondered...”  
          “There was something I had to do before school got out,” replied Holly vaguely. Perhaps someday she’d show Cousin Harry the painting. Or not. Holly knew Cousin Harry didn’t like Headmaster Snape and guessed he would not appreciate a portrait of him as she did. Maybe she’d show Albus. He had a more positive interest in the Headmaster. But that would be for another day. For now, the Headmaster was her personal treasure to savor in private.  
          “It might interest you to know that Witch Umbridge will be standing trial for her crimes next week,” said Cousin Harry.  
          “Oh?”  
          “Yes.”  
          The two sat together silently while Holly considered the news. She hadn’t given any thought to what might happen to Witch Umbridge after her capture.  
          Cousin Harry shifted in his seat. Removed his glasses and began to clean them. “You, ah, won’t be asked to testify,” he told her while he replaced the glasses on his nose.  
          “No?”  
          “No. You were unconscious after the Dementors came and Madam Pomfrey reported that you told her you had no memory of what happened with Miss Crowley. So while you were obviously involved, the prosecution seems to think you can testify to nothing relevant to the case. Neither Miss Crowley nor Wizard Pilkington, (Paige had retained Wizard Pilkington as her private solicitor and filed a civil lawsuit action against Witch Umbridge as well,) have given him cause to think otherwise. Nor will they unless Witch Umbridge and her counsel bring your name into the picture. So far, she has not done so…”  
          “Oh.”  
          “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked worriedly and then went on to explain further, “Miss Crowley has decided that she has sufficient evidence without your testimony and while the story of your experiences has been invaluable in helping her know where to dig up pertinent evidence against Witch Umbridge, your direct involvement and connection to the Potter name might adversely affect her case.”  
          “I don’t mind,” Holly assured Cousin Harry. And she didn’t. Rita Skeeter had been waiting at the station but had pointed her camera at Albus, James and Lily seeking interviews with them when they got off the Hogwarts Express. Holly was happy to say her “good-byes” to Mark and slip away with Becky nearly unnoticed. It felt strange, though, to have sat on the Muggle side without worrying about Rita.  
          “What will happen to Witch Umbridge?” Holly asked presently.  
          “Honestly?”  
          Holly nodded.  
          “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since the Wizard Court has tried someone for use of the _Imperious Curse_ without the added involvement of Lord Voldemort. She’ll get time in Azkaban, surely, but I have no idea how much… At any rate, by the time Umbridge gets out that “eight month window” Trelawney spoke of will be long gone. If Umbridge believes in the prophecy, she will surely realize her opportunity to get the key is long gone so she should leave you alone. In addition you needn’t worry about acts of revenge at a later time as Umbridge has no reason to think you were in any way involved with her imprisonment…”  
          “That’s good.”  
          “Yes,” reflected Cousin Harry. “And though she could probably find Vernon when he returns to Smeltings,” he added honestly, “she’ll have no reason to. Holly breathed a sigh of relief at that. She hadn’t liked how Witch Umbridge had tried to involve her family to get the key… “We’ll put up some wards around to discourage other wizard visitors, just in case,” Cousin Harry assured Holly.  
          “Will the key be safe?” Holly suddenly asked.  
          “It should be,” replied Cousin Harry thoughtfully. “You’ve warned Aberforth and I had a talk with him too; he’ll watch after Ariana. Besides,” Cousin Harry added lightly, “everyone knows you can’t transfigure a Gringotts key…”  
          Holly smiled. “Good thing nobody told me that earlier or I wouldn’t have done what I did,” she said reflectively.  
          “No,” agreed Cousin Harry smiling. “It’s a very clever hiding place. I can think of some people who’d like to know how Dumbledore pulled it off.”  
          “One in particular,” agreed Holly wryly, “provided she believed the key was there in the first place…” Albus had, of course, told Holly of their conversation with Witch Umbridge in the woods. “Oh, I have something for you,” Holly added. She pulled up one of her bags and started rummaging through it.  
          “For me?” questioned Cousin Harry. Holly could sense surprise behind his words.  
          “Yes, sort of a “thank-you” for all the things you’ve done for me and my family!”  
          “That wasn’t necessary.”  
          “I know, but I wanted to do it anyway.” Holly pulled out the scrolls Wizard Pilkington had given her so very long ago and handed one to Cousin Harry.  
          He untied the scarlet ribbon holding it closed and set it aside. Then Cousin Harry carefully unrolled the scroll. “Oh, my!” Holly heard him exclaim in disbelief. “Over-turned his conviction?” Cousin Harry added with wonder. “Does that mean what I think it means?”  
          “Uh huh!” Holly told him proudly. “Sirius Black has been officially declared “Not Guilty” of the crime of murdering Peter Pettigrew!” And here’s this one too!” She added eagerly handing Cousin Harry the second scroll. “It’s a Pardon for that mass-murder conviction!” Holly told him excitedly not waiting for him to unroll the scroll.  
          “How—” Cousin Harry began as he untied the ribbon. He started again once he got the scroll unrolled. “However did you manage this?”  
          “It was Wizard Pilkington mostly,” Holly explained proudly. “I asked him to do it, though. He said he liked a challenge.”  
          “I, uh, I don’t know what to say!” Cousin Harry said totally overcome with emotion.  
          “You don’t have to say anything!” Holly assured him. She closed her eyes and leaned contentedly against Cousin Harry enjoying the intense joy that radiated out filling her completely. Sometimes it was great being an Empath.

********************

          Presently Cousin Harry stirred. He rerolled the parchments and carefully tied them with the ribbon _. “Thank-you!”_ he said softly while holding the two parchments, one in each hand. “I shall … treasure them always!” he assured her. Holly smiled and nodded. He would, she knew, and his sense of happiness lingered on. It had been the right gift.  
          “Your parents.”  
          “What?” Holly looked up and suddenly saw her family! She had been so wrapped up in Cousin Harry’s happiness that she hadn’t noticed their arrival at all. Holly hastily got up and ran over to greet them.  
          “Mum! Dad!” she said happily. “It’s so good to see you!” Holly gave each of them a warm hug before turning to her brother. “You too,” she told Vernon scrutinizing both his appearance and emotions assuring for herself that he was indeed “O.K.”  
          Vernon smiled at her welcome. His eyes sparkled and he mouthed the words “Later,” at her unspoken inquiry.  
          Holly relaxed knowing that Vernon was not only “O.K.,” but eager to relate his story of what had happened at Smeltings the day before!  
          “Well?” questioned dad aggressively.  
          “Well, what?” replied Cousin Harry blinking in surprise. Holly could tell he was still consumed with happiness at her gift and wasn’t his usual controlled cold distant self around dad.  
          “How is she?” demanded dad.  
          “She? Oh, Holly. Holly’s fine!” Cousin Harry assured dad as he tucked the two scrolls away under his rumpled gray jacket.  
          “What’d the doctor say?” persisted dad.  
          “Doctor? Oh, uh—”  
          “I’m fine, dad, really I am!” agreed Holly quickly.  
          “You still having those, um, flashback thingys?” dad inquired worriedly.  
          “Uh, yes,” admitted Holly reluctantly not wanting to lie, “but not recently!” she added brightly. Headmaster Snape last night didn’t count. Holly had wanted to see him and was sorry the flashback had left… Pettigrew didn’t count either, not now. The steady buzz she heard when going up the stairs was of no consequence.  
          “Since Holly doesn’t seem to have serious flashbacks difficulties while at home,” interposed Cousin Harry smoothly. “We thought it best to wait and reevaluate her in the fall before school…”  
          “Oh.”  
          “She will, of course, keep up with her journal and let me know immediately should something serious come up, right?” he finished looking directly at Holly with his green eyes.  
          “Uh, right.” agreed Holly though she hadn’t originally intended to pull any of that stuff out until next fall. “I will,” she assured him. Cousin Harry nodded his approval.  
          “Oh, and I’ve baked a cake for you,” said mum suddenly. “It’s chocolate.” She held out the box she had been carrying.  
          “You needn’t have,” murmured Cousin Harry looking at her, “but your baking is so good I can’t turn it down,” he added taking the box anyway. Mum’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I’m sorry Ginny hasn’t had the time to bake something for you,” he added regretfully, “but we’ve been rather busy lately…”  
          “That’s O.K.,” said dad gruffly. “We need to loose some weight anyway… Come on, Holly,” he added lifting one of her bags. Vernon hastened forward to grab the other. “We’d best be going.”  
          “Yes, sir,” agreed Holly. “Good-bye,” she told Cousin Harry and impulsively gave him one more hug. “Thank you!” she whispered in his ear.  
          “Thank _you_!” he whispered back giving Holly a heart-felt hug.  
          Holly let go of Cousin Harry and hastened to follow her parents through the park. Sasha trailed along behind.  
          “You, uh, go anywhere near the ocean last summer?” asked dad in a casual sounding voice as they neared their auto. Holly sensed extreme discomfort as he asked the question and realized dad was making a direct reference to those three fateful days.  
          “Uh, no, sir, I didn’t,” admitted Holly honestly.  
          “Good,” replied dad, “because I was thinking we might take a trip to the beach for our vacation…”  
          “Dover!” said Holly firmly.  
          “What?”  
          “Dover,” she repeated. “I’ve heard the cliffs there are supposed to be “white” and I want to see if they really are!”  
          “Uh, yeah, I guess we could do that, too…” agreed dad thoughtfully.  
          “Terrific!” Holly smiled happily. It was going to be a great summer!

_THE END_


End file.
